


build me up and keep me warm

by avatarlahey



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, And can't forget romance such romance, M/M, Zombie AU, a lot of music and dancing and airplanes too, badassery, harry is dead but not really, larry - Freeform, lourry, some violence, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 08:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avatarlahey/pseuds/avatarlahey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zombie/Warm Bodies AU. One day Harry wakes up and he’s dead. Or undead. Dead, but not dead. Whatever. This is his life and it kinda sucks, but Harry likes to think that there's more waiting for him beyond the coldness of his heart. </p><p>or</p><p>The one where Harry yearns for something warm, Louis won't stop talking, Zayn and Liam are out for zombie blood, and Niall is Harry's zombie best friend who thinks his name is Naill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I'm doing this. But anyway, this is my first fic, written to quell my long time obsession over Warm Bodies and to fond over Harry and Louis.  
> Here it is! Enjoy!

 One day Harry wakes up and he’s dead. Or undead. Dead, but not dead. Whatever.

He doesn’t know how he got to this point. Right now, he’s lumbering along an abandoned airport, his feet dragging on the cold, rotting tile. Harry grunts at anybody who makes eye contact with him because that’s just the polite thing to do, he thinks. However, most of the time, the undead just keep to themselves. Walking to nowhere. Looking at nothing. Eyes cold and pale. Harry, on the other hand, tries to reach out, tries to twist his face into some sort of smile at anyone who looks his way, but he guesses that’s just not undead protocol.  
  
It’s all okay though. It’s been this way for Harry for a while. It’s not like he has anything to miss anyway. When you’re undead like Harry, you don’t have anything. No memories, no name, nothing. The only thing you have to go off on is whatever’s in your possession. Harry, for example, woke up dressed in tight black jeans with holes in the knees. Seriously, they're tight. It's really hard for him to move sometimes, like what zombie would choose to wear painted on pants in a world like this?! Sorry, Harry hates that word—Zombie. It just has no substance. Naill, his best friend, thinks Harry's opinion is ironic seeing as none of them really have any substance to begin with, but that's beside the point. Anyway, Harry woke up wearing tight tight jeans and a rolled up grey tee that dips just below his collar bone. His skin is littered with tattoos (they're all fading these days). His hair falls in waves, sweeping in every direction. He's always flipping it to get it right. Naill makes fun of him for it (he points and grunts). He also woke up with a crumpled up card, decorated with green and red glitter and snow men. It had said, _"Harry, enjoy your plane ticket. Can't wait to see you, love. We miss you x Mum and Gem"._

These items are very vital. The stuff you wake up with. It's so very important to hang on to what's left of your past life, Harry thinks. You need to hold on to it, to remember it, because soon it'll all start to fade. Like that card Harry still carries in his pocket. He was once able to read it, but as weeks grew on, the words around him started to blur. Billboards and posters taunt him. Without these clues, all Harry and the rest of the undead can do is meander about. _God, I’m getting deader by second_ , he thinks.

Harry meets Naill, his one and only friend at the baggage carousel. They both like to watch the luggage go round and round. It's a thing they do daily. Naill and Harry are both lucky. They're not as dead as everybody in the airport. They believe that they’re at their early stages. Their skin is pale, their eyes are cold and dull and dark around the edges. No spark of life. And they smell a little bit, but who is there to impress anyway?

Naill, like Harry, must be young. Maybe late teens or early twenties, if anything. He has blonde spiky hair that's faded a bit to a silvery color. He's dressed in black jeans and a white button down. He also had a green apron on with a weird logo, but even the undead have taste, so he trashed that immediately. Naill also found a name tag in his back pocket the other week or so. Harry couldn't make out anything but an 'N' but Naill reads _"Naill"_ and Harry thinks that can't be right. _It's too weird._ But 'N' (Harry prefers), demanded a celebration and it was nice. He has a name. They're both kind of living off the high of that discovery right now.

So N and Harry had come to the conclusion that N was a working man, very respectable. Harry thinks he was a rock star if the tattoos and tattered clothing are any indication. They also like to think that they were friends before they died. It’s just, talking to each other is easy. A few grunts and groans and pushes and slurred words really encompass their friendship.

Waking up at an abandoned airport, with a city at his disposal, and a name even, having N as a friend, it's all very nice.

But Harry likes to think that there's more waiting for him beyond the coldness of his heart.

 

**-L-**

 

Louis wakes up with a puddle of drool on his pillow and a very annoyed Liam hovering over him.

"Oi, wake up mate!" Liam says. Anxiety is etched onto Liam's face as he runs his hand through his freshly shaven hair. "It's our turn to go into the city and we can't be late to the meeting."

Louis groans into his pillow, mumbling.

"Five more minutes Li, just five more minutes."

Liam is throwing clothes at him now. "You know, it really says a lot when _Zayn_ wakes up before you."

Zayn makes a noise of protest as he slicks his jet black hair up, but Liam turns to him apologetically and they're smiling at each other and Louis is sick to his stomach.

"Okay! I'll get up!" Louis says tumbling off his bunk. "I have to. Before you guys start popping out babies."

Liam scolds him. "That’s not even possible, _Louis._ "

"Details, details."

"Boys!" Zayn interrupts, making sure to stand in the middle of them. "Let's not do this before our trip, yeah?"

Zayn sticks his hand out towards the center, palm facing down. It’s this thing they do when they feel all sentimental. Louis likes to poke fun at it, even though he’s the one that started it. It symbolizes their friendship. It their way of saying: _I_   _love you. And I appreciate you and let’s hope this isn’t the last of us._

Louis rolls his eyes, adding softly, “It’s just some friendly banter.”

But he stacks his hand on top of Zayn, and Liam follows after. They’re smiling with every bit of fondness in them. Then Liam drops his hand, then Louis, and then Zayn. They breathe a collective sigh.

“You guys go ahead,” Louis says, clearly not dressed yet. Zayn and Liam need their alone time, anyway.

Liam shrugs, leaving their room as Zayn mouths a quick ‘thank you’ before following.

It’s moments like this that make Louis angry, that this is the world they live in. Young people like Zayn, Liam, and himself have to sacrifice their lives to replenish their people's supplies. _Their jobs are integral_ , says the commander. They keep the camp running with their weekly raids. Louis’ not so sure. He believes that they’re supposed to be at uni. Louis’ supposed to be the class clown, and Zayn and Liam are supposed to be sweethearts. _That’s_ what is meant to be.

_Shit, I’m losing it_ , Louis thinks.

Louis just doesn’t want his friends to die is the thing. He doesn’t want his life sucked out of him.

He hates zombies.

He doesn’t want to be one. 

And he doesn’t want to do this.

*****

Louis has to do this. It’s inevitable now that he’s just had a large, heavy gun thrusted upon him. They’re lined up. Zayn and Liam stand front and center, and Louis is behind them. Other young men and women make up the ranks. Louis recognizes Jade, Aidan and Josh to name a few.

There’s a crowd behind them to see the younger ones off. It’s a pity, really. It’s like sending your kids off to war. Louis wonders how many other kids are sent to do this. After ‘The Outbreak’, Louis' city immediately quarantined the hives of the infected, the Gate was built as a barrier from the Dead, some guy took charge, and a base camp was built. Families were given their own shelters, jobs were distributed, and _this_ was one of them.

Louis can feel Zayn shaking a bit as their Captain gives them their orders for today. It’s the good kind of shaking, though. Zayn’s ready to go. And then there’s Liam. He’s got a bandana wrapped around his forehead and where he got a hold of one, Louis has no clue. But Liam is silent. Unmoving. His brow furrowed as he listens to the Captain go _blah, blah blah._ Liam is born for this kind of thing. And Louis just thinks, _how?_ How can anyone be excited to face the unknown? How can anyone be willing to sacrifice their life? To kill?

He feels a gentle push, and Louis turns to his left to see Stan smiling at him. “Alright?”

“Do I not look alright?” Louis whispers, feigning his attention towards their Captain.

“I dunno mate. You’re the one shaking your head. Plus, you look a little ill,” Stan replies.

Louis flushes. His disapproval is apparently obvious. “Just a little nervous, is all.”

“We’ll be okay.”

And Louis smiles at that. Stan always knows how to make everything better. Liam and Zayn are his best mates. They’ve been best friends since they were all thirteen. They were there before everything in their world fell to shit. However, apocalyptic situations causes you to grow too old and too responsible. There’s no time for jokes at the back of the classroom anymore. There’s no time for anything. But Stan, though. Stan takes him back. Stan reminds him of childhood and play dates and nap time and secrets. To Louis, Stan is everything. And he’s so glad he’s here.

The gates begin to open and Louis straightens up, holding his gun tight against his chest. They all follow Liam out the gate and onto the highway. The sky is gray and a haze covers the ground like a blanket. The closer they get to the city, the louder the noises become.  
  
Zombies travel in packs. You get used to them after a while, when they’re not hungry and chasing after you of course.

But there are the other creatures. The ones that have lost their lives completely, emotionally and physically. They are sunken eyes and torn skin and sharp teeth. They’re completely vicious and beyond saving. They’re the ones that creep up on you, lurking within the dark corners of the city. Their base calls them _Goners_. Because that’s what they are, _gone_.

“Remember,” Liam’s voice interrupts his thoughts, “go for the brains.”

A shriek is heard and Louis wants to turn back.

 

**-H-**

 

N strums the last note on his guitar with a flourish. N thinks of himself as a real professional.

He found the two stringed guitar last week.

Harry is sat across from him. He brings his hand together, applauding N’s latest concert.

"'s good," Harry grunts.

N smiles and groans, “Mmmgggghhhaaaa”

_How sweet,_ Harry thinks. “Thanks.”

N extends his arms out, mimicking the large poster behind them, a couple reuniting after their travels. Harry slowly walks into N’s embrace. It’s a bit stiff. But that's how it usually goes.

And that’s it for the morning.

*****

There's this thing that the dead like Harry crave. The light. It's hard to explain, seeing as it's nothing official. Harry just assumes it's what all Dead look forward to. N understands. See, Harry woke up to darkness. An inexplicable cold. Everything around their life is greys and blacks.

But there's this light, Harry thinks, that's inside all of them, and it's waiting to come out. Sometimes Harry feels it when he listens to music or when he's laughing with N. It's a certain warmness. Harry believes that some Dead have it and others don't. There's the Dead that have given up on life, tearing at their own skin---killers. Then there's the majority of the hundreds of Dead that live within the airport. All they do is walk and eat and keep to themselves. Walk. Eat. Walk. Grunt. Eat.

Harry knows he's unusual. He's able to find actual words to say sometimes. So Harry thinks he has some chance. He really _really_ likes to believe that.

Harry is occupying a row of seats in Terminal B when N nudges him. Harry groans, getting up from his relaxed position.

N is whining, rubbing his stomach. "So...hungry."

Harry attempts to roll his eyes. They just went out for food yesterday.

"Hungry," N repeats, this time he's kneeling next to Harry, begging.

Harry groans in annoyance, ushering N up. "Ok. City?"

"City," N agrees and he takes the lead, adding a little pep to his shuffle.

*****

If there's anything that brings the Dead together it's food. Humans, actually. N and Harry are among the dozens of Dead that meet up at the City's entrance. N is leading the pack, his arms are raised as high as they can go. _"FOOOOOD!"_

The pack make noises of approval as they slowly make their way into an abandoned university.

It's easy to find food when you travel in packs. A human's distinct smell and inability to shut up really give them away.

_"This place is too big. We're going to get lost."_  
_"Quiet, Louis. They'll hear you."_  
_"Well, let's just stick together, okay?"_

They follow the sound of footsteps. These humans are not really grasping the concept of quiet feet, Harry thinks.

_"I think this is the kitchen."_  
_"No fucking way, Liam. Really observant, you are."_  
_"You are so loud, Louis. Come on everybody, stock up. Quickly."_

N pauses outside the door where the human voices are coming from. This is N's favorite part. He really has the flair for the dramatics. N charges through the door with a battle cry that he’s probably practiced by himself.

Everything turns to chaos. It's all slow motion and blurred noises for Harry. People are jumping anywhere, guns are being shot, and skin is being torn. Yelling, lots of yelling.

Just to be clear, Harry hates this part. It's complete instinct for people like him to crave human flesh. He can't change that. But he hates the killing part. He hates the noises that come from his victims, their cries of despair. Harry usually tries to finish them off. You can bite them and have them turn undead, but that's really awkward isn't it? _Hi, I just killed you. Now let's shuffle together and be friends and shit?_   No way. So Harry usually skips the tearing of flesh and goes straight for the brains. Brains give you the memories and emotions of your victim. It's then when Harry gets to feel the light in the darkness. It's great, even if it's just for a moment.

N, on the other hand, will eat anything. Look at him now. Munching on an arm, a smile plastered on his face.

_Oh, god._ Harry's done it again. Gotten lost in his thoughts. There's a guy with a bandana tied around his forehead, standing on one of the counters. He's yelling and pointing at Harry.

"Brains! Go for the brains!" This bandana hunk cries, his gun raised above his head.

And now there's this brown haired guy coming towards him, his rifle pointed straight to his head. Harry is intelligent than most Dead. He quickly grabs a jar of cooking oil on the counter nearest him. He pours the contents with shaky fingers, backing up as quickly as possible. Completely unaware, the guy with the rifle slips backwards. A loud crack is heard and all Harry sees is a puddle of thick crimson surrounding its skull. Harry grabs a nearby kitchen knife, raising it above his head as he kneels to meet the unconscious human.

A cry pierces throughout the room.

_"STAN!"_

Again, this is Harry's least favorite part.

Skipping all the gruesome details. Harry now has this guy's brains in his hands, and this is what he's been waiting for. He brings it up to his mouth and—

*****

Harry is now a 7 year old Stanley Lucas. The vision is blurry around the edges, but everything shines so bright. He's giggling, chasing a golden boy clad in suspenders through an open field. His parents watch nearby, and Stan can feel the grass beneath his bare feet. And wow, the sun is shining. It's actually shining and—

He's 12, now. Taller. And he has a football in his hands. He's walking along side an older version of the boy he was chasing. Stan watches as this boy nervously looks down at the ground. Harry thinks he's kinda cute.

_"Louis."_

Harry likes the sound of that.

"Louis, look at me."

Blue eyes meet his.

"I don't care who you like, okay? If you like blokes, then fine by me."

"But—"

"The sky is still blue, we still have footy practice, and frankly, you're still my best friend. Nothing changes. "

This Louis is looking at him with a watery smile, and suddenly, he's crashing into Stan. "Thank you. Thank you. _Thank you._ "

And now Stan is 17 sitting in the back of an old truck. Louis is there, but so is a raven haired boy and that bandana guy.

"Christ, war sucks. Doesn't it?" The raven haired boy says.

Louis, who has _really_ grown up, sighs. "Did you see those big guys with the guns outside class today? It's mad. It's...."

"I know," Stan interrupts, solemnly. "Dad's being called into war."

The group falls silent.

Stan is now hiding in his room. He's just said goodbye to his Dad. He knows he'll see him soon, but he needs his mum to stop crying. It hurts.

Stan is 18, dressed in black, an arm is swung over Louis. They're sitting on the steps outside of some church. Louis is shaking.

"I can't believe they're all gone. _I'm alone."_

Stan tightens his grip. "You're not alone."

Louis bottom lip trembles and he's looking at anything but Stan. Harry wonders about Louis. His cheekbones are more defined now. His brown hair falls in every direction across his forehead, and those eyes.

Those blue eyes.

The sun ironically shines down on Louis. Harry thinks it's beautiful. He's beautiful.

Stan holds him close. "You'll be okay."

Louis just cries and cries, and then a tunnel of light blinds Harry.

*****

He's Harry again. _Still dead_. And kneeling on the blood ridden floor with unfinished brain in his hands. Stan's brain. He shoves it into his pocket for later.

The chaos has died down around him. The dead mingle about groaning. Some are hovered over Stan and the other two fatalities. Of course, N is among them. Vultures.

He hears voices and heavy running outside of the room.  
  
_"Where is he, Liam? We've gotta go back and find him."_

_"Zayn, we have to go!_ "

Some dead follow the voices outside. N is still eating. Harry hears a whimper. And then, he smells...a human.

Harry sees— _Louis_ , a more muscular Louis than in Stan's memories. His hair is longer in the back, more unkempt. Harry notices a stubble growing. This isn't the same boy that Harry got to know through Stan's memories. This Louis is worn down... And hiding under a kitchen counter. _He's tiny_ , Harry thinks. But wow, he's just as radiant.

They make brief eye contact, and a look of horror washes over Louis' face. Louis stifles a yell, eyeing a gun that's sitting a few feet away from him.

Harry looks around the room and _oh no._ The rest of the pack can sense Louis. They're looking for him (N is still working on his meal). Harry meets Louis' eyes. He groans at him, shaking his head. _Please don't move. Please don't move._

Harry crawls over to Louis, and Louis returns the gesture with frantic shaking, backing deep into his hiding spot.

Harry eyes a frying pan. He grabs it, quietly raising it above his head.

Louis' blue eyes widen. _"Please."_

He's so scared, and something in Harry stirs.

"Sorry."

And it's lights out for Louis.

 

*****

N is giving Harry a weird look. Granted, Harry has an unconscious Louis swung over his shoulder with zombie blood all over him, hopefully overpowering his human scent.

Harry had to. He couldn’t leave Louis there and there was no way Louis was going to trust him.

“ ‘s a friend,” Harry says beckoning to Louis. “Hurt.”

N’s face crumples, as if to say: _I thought I was your friend?_

“You are, Naill. Best.” And N brightens up. He loves when Harry uses his new name. “Les…go.”

When they arrive back to the airport, N says his goodbyes, patting Harry and Unconscious Louis. _Perfect_. Louis moans. _Not perfect_. Harry hurriedly shuffles to his safe place, keeping his head low as he swims through the sea of Dead. He swings Louis so that's he is cradled close to his chest. 

His safe place is an abandoned airplane. It has everything that Harry has collected over his time of being dead, or undead, whatever. There’s blankets and pillows strewn all over the place, posters that Harry has stolen from the airport walls, and cool looking items that he’s stolen from baggage. In the corner is a stereo piled with CDs. Harry finally figured out how to work it two weeks ago. He hasn’t stopped listening to music. It’s his place of escape from all the dead noises. It’s where Harry is kept alone to his thoughts.  
  
He carefully places Louis on the blanketed floor. He grabs a stuffed toy from one of his piles, placing it right next to Louis’ face, and then delicately covers another blanket over Louis. And does Harry’s touch linger when he’s wiping zombie blood off of Louis’ face? Maybe. And does Harry run his fingers through Louis’ hair? Probably.

Harry finally retreats, plopping down on a nearby seat. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do when Louis wakes up. Louis’ here and safe, that’s all that matters, so he lets his eyes rest.

*****

Harry watches as Louis wakes up with a puddle of drool on his pillow and a teddy bear staring at him.

_Ok, Harry, you can do this. Don’t be creepy._

“The fuck?” Louis groans, getting up from his sleeping position. He’s rubbing his head as he surveys his surroundings. “Jesus Christ.”

And then his blue eyes meet Harry’s. Harry waves, because that’s the polite thing to do, right? Louis jumps back, screaming, pointing at Harry.

“You! You… _you_ …” And then Louis drops to the floor. **  
**

_Take two._ Harry watches as Louis wakes up with a puddle of drool on his pillow and a teddy bear in his arms. This time, Harry is hovering over him. Louis’ eyes are barely open, a moan escaping his lips. _He looks so soft,_ Harry thinks.

Louis' eyes shoot wide open as soon as he registers the body hovering over him.

“Too close! _Too fucking close_!” He pushes Harry away, scrambling up to his feet. He’s throwing things on the aisle, attempting to stop Harry from following him. Harry easily steps over the thrown stuffed animals and books. Louis curses as he trips back into an empty chair. “Please. Just…” He’s watching Harry with wide eyes.

_Quick, Harry. Find your words._ “Hiiiiiii.”

Louis splutters, squinting his eyes at Harry, as if he was completely bat shit insane. A bit rude. He’s just a walking corpse, after all.

“Hi?  _HI?!_ You hit me with a frying pan! _AND YOU KILLED MY FRIEND_! Don’t look at me like that! I saw you do it!”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles. He means it.

“And you’re talking. You’re talking. Oh my fucking jesus lord and savior, you are talking. I’m talking to a zombie.” _Hey._ “I’m talking to a _zombie_! And he has me imprisoned! This is…” Louis won’t stop rambling. He’s climbing over chairs, separating himself from Harry, and still talking to nobody. “This is some King Kong shit, lemme tell you. I need to get out of here. I need to—mghhaa _FUCK_!” He topples over the last row of chairs, landing hard on the floor. And now he’s crawling. Humans are weird. “Get me out of here. Get me the fuck out of here.”

“NO!” Harry shouts as Louis nears the door. He’s surprised by the volume of his own voice, and even more surprised that Louis turns around. This is the first time Harry’s seen him completely still—and actually standing on his feet. Harry points out the window, and Louis sighs before allowing himself to look out.

Louis stomps his foot, whining. “Great. There’s more of you. I swear to god, you guys are like some motherfucking clique.” Harry looks out the window too, seeing the handful of Dead shuffling about, moaning.

Harry brings his finger to his mouth, mimicking the picture books he's read. This means quiet: “Shhh…”

If Louis keeps freaking out like this, the _“motherfucking clique”_ will sense him, and he’ll be dead for sure.

“Why am I here, Walking Dead?” Louis whispers harshly.

“Sav...ing you,” Harry says. _Isn’t it obvious?_

Louis’ silent, his eyes scan his own shirt, riddled with zombie blood. Blood that he didn’t put there. “Maybe. But I don’t trust you.”

Harry sighs. His hurt gaze falls downward.

“Look, you killed my friend! He was my best friend! I saw you…the knife…y-you ate his fucking brains out. _Fuck._ ” He’s pinching the bridge of his nose, shaking. _“Stan.”_

Harry reaches forward, trying to comfort Louis. He’s sorry. He really is.

_“No.”_

If looks could kill.

Harry quickly moves his hand away, not wanting to upset Louis any further.

“Didn’t know,” Harry says, his eyes begging for mercy.

Louis chuckles dryly, unamused. “You didn’t know.” He’s scanning Harry up and down, bitterly.

And Harry wants to say: _Yes! I didn’t know._ If he had known that this guy had meant so much to Louis, then he wouldn’t have. But he had no way of knowing. It’s just what the Dead do.

“Maybe,” Louis spits, venom pouring out of his lips. Harry wonders if Louis has read his mind. “But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s dead. You’re dead. And I’m away from home.”

“I’ll help…” Harry pleads. “Just…not now. Stay?”

A beat passes before Louis nods. “So long as there’s distance between us.”

“I w-won’t…” Harry stutters. “eat y-you.”

Louis scoffs at that. “Uh-huh, okay.” Louis makes his way back to the makeshift bed that Harry had made for him. He stands with his hands placed on his hips. He points to the ground. “My side.” Then to the first class cabin. “ _Your_ side.” Louis’ side is so obviously bigger. “Here’s the thing, Thriller. The minute those zombies clear out—I’m fucking leaving. I mean it, Fleshy McGee. No funny business.”

“Harryyyy…” Harry mutters.

“What?”

“My name,” Harry says. _“Harry.”_

“Y-you…” Louis’ shaking his head in utter astonishment. “Okay. I'm Lou—"

“Louis.” Harry smiles.

Louis freezes. “ _How did you_ —never mind.”

He eyes Harry with curiosity, slowly settling onto the pile of blankets. “M’ head hurts”

He turns his body away from Harry, and Harry is _still_ smiling as he settles down onto one of the first class seats, reclining back. Minutes later, Louis' snores travel to his side of the plane.

Harry falls into a dark, quiet sleep.

 

*****

Harry wakes up to Louis’ voice.

“Harry? Harrrrrrry….” He turns and sees Louis peeking at him from the dividers. “I’m hungry.”

Harry didn’t think that part through. He looks out the nearest window, and the Dead are still there. _Shit_. He stands up, feeling his bones crack. He follows in Louis’ direction. He’s perched on an arm rest, looking at Harry, as if he’s supposed to magically conjure food from thin air.

Harry just shrugs, and Louis sighs with exasperation.

Then Louis' eyes go wide. Harry follows his gaze. Louis is staring at a pyramid of cans that Harry had collected. A proud smile stretches across Harry’s face. Louis starts making grabby hands, and soon, the pyramid comes crumbling down.

_“No!”_ Harry cries, trying to salvage the pile of cans. _Why would Louis do such a thing?_

“What are you doing, Harry?” Louis asks, fiddling with the tab on one of the cans.

Harry frantically points at the mess that Louis has made. “Toys!” He’s trying to find the word. “'s my art!” He’s making a pyramid with arms and Louis shakes his head, biting down laughter.

“No, Harry.” He clinks the metal in his hand. “This is food. See?” He shoves the can in Harry’s face. It has a weird smell, and there’s yellow bits floating inside. “They issued these when we were in war. The yellow tabs mean corn, red means fruit, brown means beans, and you get the point. Don’t you remember?” Louis stares at Harry, waiting for a response that Harry doesn’t have. “Well, I guess you don’t. Of course.”

Louis’ words fall on empty ears. Harry’s busy restacking the cans. He feels Louis’ gaze on him, and Harry looks up at Louis, who is staring back with a parted mouth.

“You’re a weird one, Harry.” He shakes his head. “But you’ve got yourself a hideaway, I must admit.” He finishes the last of the corn, chucking the metal away. “Let’s see what we got here.”

He walks over to his music nook, running his hands along the garland that Harry had collected from the airport and hung precariously on the overheads. “That’s a lot of fucking CDs. And _maracas_?” He’s shaking them in Harry’s face. “Where did you get these?”

Louis plops down on the floor as Harry stands away, idly. Fumbling with his everything, Harry just watches Louis be…well, Louis.

“Let’s do some inspection, shall we?” Louis starts picking up CDs, oohing and ahhing at each of them, before gently setting them down. Other times, he picks one up and chucks it with disgust. Either way, he’s busy and not yelling at Harry, so that’s a plus. “Michael Jackson? Nice. Barry Manilow…okay, I can dig it. Modest Mouse! God, I wonder what happened to them.” He’s tearing the plastic apart. “Hmph, not even opened.”

Louis presses a few buttons, and a ringing of instruments fill the plane. It's percussions and guitar and Harry closes his eyes and sighs, dropping to floor. A safe distance from Louis.

Harry watches as Louis bobs his head, closing his eyes, a grin growing from ear to ear. Harry wants to know what he’s thinking. “Jesus, I haven’t heard this song in years. Or any music, actually.”

Then Louis is singing under his breath, eyes still closed. _“And we’ll all float on, okay…and we’ll all float on, okay…and we’ll all float on anyway—"_

Louis stops, peeking at Harry with one opened eye. Harry’s a little disappointed. He’s decided that he loves Louis’ voice. “Wow, you really have no idea what you’re listening to, do you?”

Harry shakes his head.

“We’ll just need to fix that then, won’t we?”

So it’s like this for the next couple of days, Louis shuffling through CDs and Harry listening as Louis babbles on about the artist, the genre, everything. Louis really knows what he’s talking about. Harry wonders if he was a rockstar, too, before all of this.

_I must admit,_   
_I can’t explain_   
_any of these thoughts racing through my brain,_   
_it’s true, that baby I’m howling for you._

“Now, _this_ is some rock and roll, lemme tell you.” Louis is sitting cross legged on the floor, while Harry is seated in a chair a few feet away from Louis. Louis has a can of “food” between his legs. He moves his arms animatedly, as if performing to a large crowd of concert goers.

“The Black Keys, Harry. This song was from their sixth album, I believe. 2011. Jesus, can’t believe that.”

_Lend me your ear and I’ll sing you a song_   
_and I’ll try not sing out of key, oh_   
_I get by with a little help from my friends._

Everytime, Harry moves a little closer to Louis, inch after inch. Louis may have flinched the first couple of times, but now, Louis doesn’t notice or doesn’t seem to care. Every day is a victory for Harry.

“ _Please_ tell me that you _at least_ recognize The Beatles in that dead little brain of yours?” Harry stares at Louis with a perplexed expression. “No? Ugh, they are legends, Harry. Absolute legends. Give us an apocalypse and they’ll still be remembered.”

Harry loves when Louis goes off on one of his tangents.

“One time…” Louis’ closes his eyes again, like he usually does when he gets lost in a song. "Zayn, Liam and I snuck into the school past closing. They were about to shut it down, with the war and all. I wanted to say goodbye so…I supplied the idea, Zayn supplied the alcohol, and Liam supplied his inability to shut the fuck up and have a good time.” Louis sighs. “It was ace, Harry. We slid on the banisters and sang this song at the top of our lungs.” Louis snorts. “Before we got caught, of course. It was worth it though.” Louis’ voice grows small.

“It was all worth it.”

_But now that I’m older,_   
_my heart’s colder,_   
_and I can see that it’s a lie._

“I never understood what this song meant,” Louis says. He’s lying down on his back, his hands clasped over his stomach. “But now I think I do.”

Harry grunts. _What do you mean?_ He wants to understand so badly. He’s so close to Louis now, sitting by Louis’ feet, his legs curled up against his chest.

Louis ignores Harry’s confused grunts. He just sings, softly. _“If the children, don’t grow up…”_ Harry watches Louis’ lips as they form the melodious words, the shape of it all. “ _Our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up.”_

Harry wishes that Louis’ voice could follow him for the rest of his life.

*

_“He shoots! He scores!”_

Harry is standing on an armrest (attemping to, he may or may not have fallen a couple of times), his arms outstretched in front of him, forming an ‘O’ shape. Louis gave him the “most fucking important job anyone could ever have in their entire motherchuggin existence".

He’s Louis' basketball hoop.

And there’s Louis, with a poorly paper constructed basketball, hopping around from seat to seat.

“Ok, next one,” Louis says excitedly, jumping off a chair and striking a pose. “I’m going to cartwheel down the aisle, hop onto Row 3 Seat A and then chaste to the refreshments cart, roll down the aisle, and dunk it. How does that sound, Harry?” Harry doesn’t have time to answer. “Excellent. Let’s go.”

Harry has to stifle a yawn. They’ve been going at this for hours.

“Harry!” Louis exclaims with mock offense. “Are you falling asleep on me?”

Harry gracefully falls off the arms rest. Louis looks on with sympathy, smile tugging on his lips as he stares at the tangle of limbs in front of him. “You’re a very clumsy one, aren’t you? I guess I’ve asked too much of you. It’s just that…” He laughs. “Man, Zayn, Liam and I used to play this all the time back at base. Whoever came up with most creative way to shoot a basket and made it got to claim the other two as their servants. And you should see Liam try and do a jazz square into a dunk, it's gold.”

Louis’ fond smile becomes distant. It’s the second time he’s mentioned Liam and Zayn, and like last time Louis shuts down. Harry feels a twinge of jealousy that these boys are making Louis feel this way. But at the same time, Harry despises seeing Louis upset. A frown does not need to be on someone as pretty as Louis.

Louis’ voice becomes quiet and raspy. “Liam must be so worried about me.” A beat. “I think I need to go home now.”

“N-no!” Harry protests, his eyes widening at the idea of Louis leaving him. “’s not safe.”

“Harry—"  
  
But Harry doesn’t pay attention to Louis. He’s too busy pressing buttons on the stereo after picking up the nearest CD.

Louis shakes his head once he realizes what Harry is doing. “No, I don’t want to listen to music right now. I just want to—“

And then Louis recognizes the poppy tune, and he rolls his eyes. “No, you wouldn’t.” And then the music builds up. “Oh Christ, I can’t handle thi—"

Louis throws his head back, roaring with laughter. He spins and freezes in front of Harry. Pointing at him, he belts, “ _WHY DO YOU BUILD ME UP? BUTTERCUP BABY JUST TO LET ME DOWN!”_   He’s shimmying towards Harry. “C’mon, Clumsy. You've brought this upon yourself.”

Harry stands frozen, his toes pointing inward, gazing at Louis with a humorous smile.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to dance, either?” Louis laughs, still bouncing to the music. Harry shakes his head, and Louis cries gleefully, grabbing Harry by the hand. “Then follow my lead!”

Harry can’t keep his eyes off at their joined hands. Louis hold them loosely, swinging them as he sidesteps from left to right. “There you go, Harry. Just follow my movements.”

Harry trips over his feet. If this is what embarrassment feels like, then Harry is definitely embarrassed.

_So build me up Buttercup,_   
_don’t break my heart._

“I guess you’re getting it,” Louis mutters, laughing. “Now let’s try this.” He pulls Harry closer, placing Harry’s left hand on Louis’ shoulder and his own left hand on the small of Harry’s back. Louis looks up at Harry, his blue eyes crinkle as Harry looks at him with utter terror. “You got it. Step touch. Step touch.”

Harry is doing the movement, but all he can think about is the heat radiating between the two of them.

_I’m attracted to you all the more,_   
_why do I need you so._

_“HEY HEY HEY!”_ Louis sings as he suddenly spins Harry out, and Harry yelps in surprise. He spins Harry back, and they’re so so close as Louis sings softly between them. _“Baby, baby try to find a little time and I’ll make you mine.”_

Louis’ bursting with laughter as he twirls Harry all over the place. He's in total control, moving them throughout the aisle. Harry finds himself giggling. _Giggling._ Jeez, one of the rare times Harry laughs, and it’s a fucking giggle.

Louis sings at the top of his lungs through the last chorus, and Harry also tries to follow along, but he resigns to just watch Louis be Louis.

The song fades away and Louis freezes, his grin dropping into a small smile, a thoughtful gaze falling on Harry. After a moment, Louis coughs and quickly releases Harry.

“Right then. Bed time for me.” He retreats back to his side, leaving Harry with the feeling of his warm body pressed against his.

It’s funny how Louis can make Harry feel so alive.

  ** _*_**

This looks bad, but Harry hasn’t eaten in a long time, okay?

He has the remainder of Stan’s brains in his hands. After his moment with Louis, Harry craves more. More of Louis. More exhilaration. One day, he’ll have the light to himself, but for now, Stan will have to do.

He brings his hand to his mouth and—

*****

He’s a 19 year old Stan, knocking on an apartment door, a gold “ _6C”_ hangs lopsidedly.

A door swings open and he sees Louis, his bright crinkly eyed Louis. Louis launches himself at Stan, muttering words of excitement, before pulling him into a living room littered with boxes upon boxes.

“Thank you so much for doing this for us.” His arms are wrapped around Stan’s shoulders. “Zayn! Liam! Stan’s here.”

Two heads pop out from behind a kitchen counter, and Harry be damned, Zayn and Liam are the same raven haired and bandana clad hunks from previous memories. These are the boys that bring Louis back to reality, that cause him to yearn for something Harry can’t give him.

“I don’t even wanna know what you two were doing back there,” Louis says, a devilish grin forming on his lips.

“Stan!” Liam ignores Louis’ comment, blushing. “Thanks again.”

Zayn follows Liam’s hug, “Just unpacking is all. Thanks for getting us orphans this place, I really like it.”

“Zayn—"

Zayn interrupts Liam, shrugging. “What? It’s what we are.”

“Yeah but—“

“Anyway,” Stan interjects. “It’s only one bedroom, but it’s the best I could get for you guys. I’m sorry.”

“No really, Stan. It’s great. Thanks for putting us together. It means a lot.” Louis says. “I would’ve hated to be put with people I didn’t know. Or alone, so.”

“How’s your dad, Stan?” Liam says, switching topics.

“He’s dad.” Stan shrugs, his gaze falls down, avoiding any eye contact. “Um, have you guys seen the Gate yet? It’s massive.”

“No,” Louis replies, side eyeing Stan. “But, that’s it then? We’re stuck here forever?”

Stan’s head shoots up, a small smile tugs on his lips. “I wouldn’t say that.”

The vision changes.

Now they’re in a dark, decrepit building. Liam is looking around wearily, as Stan leads the way, a flashlight in one hand. “Uh, Stan? What are we doing in an abandoned theatre?”

“I've always loved the theatre,” Louis murmurs next to Stan. He’s shining his own flashlight at shredded lobby displays, following paths of dried up blood and trails of broken glass.

Stan ushers them down a stairwell, spiraling down. “This theatre has an underground stage.” He takes off in a run as they reach the row of seats, the other three boys bolt after him. “And the exit—leads outside of the barrier!” He throws open another door, sun pours down the staircase. Stan lets out a whoop before climbing up the stairs, skipping steps.

Stan is still, with a smile that could literally jump off his face—he’s so happy. The three boys bump into him, collectively gasping as they take in the sight before them. There’s a parking lot, but beyond the parking lot is an area of green grass and a large tree with a tire swing attached to it.

“I…I didn’t think green still existed in this world,” Zayn breathes out.

“Yeah, well let’s hope _they_ don’t find out our little secret.” Stan says.

A body pushes past Stan. It’s Louis and he’s running to the field of green, his arms outstretched and Harry swears, Louis could jump and he’d be soaring.

_“SO MANY BRANCHES TO CLIMB, SO MANY POSSIBILITIES!”_

He’s still 19 years old. Now, Stan is in a line with people his age. Zayn is stood next to him, then Liam, and Louis. A man with a helmet walks along the line, shouting out some speech. Stan feels Zayn shaking next to him, the bad kind of shaking. Zayn’s eyes widen as a gun is placed in his hands. Then Stan feels a gun being thrusted towards his chest, he catches it with numb fingers.

“You lot are the future of this city. We all have jobs to do!” The helmet guy shouts. “Your real training starts now!”

He snaps at another guy with a helmet and uniform. From out of nowhere, two uniformed men drag out a middle aged man. His eyes are bloodshot, hair in clumps, his legs flail all over the place struggling to escape the mens’ grasp. A cloth muffles his shouts.

_“THIS MAN!”_ The helmet guy points. “Has been infected.” He kicks the sick man in the gut. “Hah, and he thought we wouldn’t know. Soon, he’s going to drop dead, and then he’ll become one of them.” He spits out the last word. He eyes the line before stopping infront of Liam. _“You!”_

Liam involuntarily shakes his head as he tentatively steps forward. His voice small, “Me, sir?”

The helmet guy walks circles around Liam. “Now we’re not going to let this man turn are we?” Liam’s eyes widen. _“Are we?_ ” Liam shakes his head vigorously. “Good answer.”  
He stops behind Liam’s back, growling into Liam’s ear. “Let’s shoot him.” Liam immediately steps back, his head shaking. Helmet guy grabs ahold of Liam’s shoulders, shaking him. “This man is infected! He’s a threat to our society!”

Stan feels Zayn reach out, but he stops himself.

“Come on, Payne,” Helmet guy says. _“Go for the brains.”_

Liam is frozen, and Helmet guy rolls his eyes, lifting Liam’s shooting hand for him. Liam mutters to himself, his whole body shakes, and his hand trembles with utter fear.

“As the admiral says,” Helmet guy begins, “show no mercy.”

Silence passes throughout the barren field. “SHOOT HIM NOW OR—"

“ _You killed my dad!”_

Liam is yelling at Stan. They’re at a factory. Zayn and Louis are holding Liam back. They look younger than the previous memory, or more innocent.

Stan is stood infront of Liam, letting the gun in his hand drop the floor. He pushes his hair back with trembling fingers. “Liam—Liam I had to. I had to—he was beyond sick! He was going to turn!”

“No he wasn’t!” Liam is ready to launch himself at Stan, while Zayn and Louis struggle to pull him back. His eyes are red, his cheeks wet with tears. “I just wanted you to guys to check up on him with me and y-you shot him!”

“Liam…” Louis warns, burrowing his head into the crook of Liam’s neck. “Please…”

“Liam! He was miserable!” Stan cries. “It’s what they tell us to do. This wasn’t easy for me, _I promise._ Please. Please, Liam, _please_.” He takes a step forward, but Liam turn his back on him, a frustrated noise escaping his lips. “Liam…he was going to die from the sickness. You need to understand. He was going to die from the inside, and then he was going to turn into a zombie. Liam, I promise you. You wouldn’t want to see that. _Believe me.”_

“You don’t know anything…”

“But I do,” Stan says, his voice straining to keep calm. “I know it’s hard and I know you don’t want to believe it. But this is the world we live in now. Please accept that. If you don’t I…I don’t know how you’ll be able to live.”

Liam drops to the ground, his body racking with sobs. _“He was the only person I had, and you didn’t even let me say goodbye.”_

A blinding white light brings Harry back to reality. Harry falls to the floor, gagging. His back arches, retching as bits of brains fall to the floor. A horrible feeling bubbles within his stomach, rivaling the much more horrible image replaying in his mind. This has never happened before. He doesn’t want these memories.

And it’s so cold.

_Why is it so cold?_

A gust of wind hits him from behind. He whips his head around—the door is open.

_The door is open._

Harry bolts outside with only one person on his mind.

*****

_“Louis!_ ”

Harry has been shouting his name longer than he had intended. Louis managed to make it past the two Dead that were loitering the runway. _That’s good. Good Louis._ Harry uses his senses, listening for Louis’ voice, his familiar footsteps.

This is a new feeling for Harry. His hands are tangled in his hair, clenched with frustration. “LOUIS!”

He runs past several garages, until he finally sees a head of familiar brown, feathered hair peeking over a stack of crates. A chorus of hungry moans also accompany Louis. That can’t be good.

Harry sprints (as fast as any corpse can) into the garage, and yes, there is Louis with his dark jeans and baseball tee in the center of a circle of hungry corpses. They shuffle towards him, with outstretched hands, stalking their pray.

Louis is defending himself with a broom, where he got one, Harry doesn’t know.

“Nice zombies…nice zombies,” Louis sings.

“NO!” Harry screams, pushing past his fellow wanderers, throwing his body over Louis. “ _You can't_!”

“‘arry?” Harry turns around, and it isn’t Louis that speaks to him. It’s N.

N steps forward, the other corpses are frozen, staring at Harry and Louis with confused faces.

“Whyyy?” N grunts, beckoning towards Louis. N looks hurt. “You lie…”

“He’s a friend,” Harry protests.

N steps forward, his fists clenched. Louis sinks further behind Harry’s protective stance. “Human!” N yells. “We. Eat. Humans.”

Harry shakes his head, eyes pleading. “Not today. Not him. Good. _He’s good._ ” Harry finds Louis’ fingers and tangles them with his own. Louis looks up at him as Harry turns back to N. _“Friends.”_

N’s eyes dart between the both of them. He looks back at Harry with a questioning stare.

A deep, guttural growl echoes throughout the garage. The group searches for the source.

“Um…” Louis says under his breath. “Harry, if my training hasn’t betrayed me, I believe we have what we call a Goner over there.” He nods towards the darkest corner of the garage. “I think he’s come to say hello.”

In the corner, a _“Goner”_ breathes heavily. It stares at them, kneeling on all fours. Its skin is completely ripped off. _This guy was definitely done with his life,_ Harry thinks. The Goner tilts its head at them, its hollowed eyes lock on Louis.

It bares its teeth at the crowd. Letting out a beastly roar, it launches up. 

This is Harry’s cue to grab Louis and run. He picks up Louis bridal style and sprints past N and the rest of the hungry folk.

“I’ll see you guys next time! I’m here on Mondays!” Louis calls out over Harry’s shoulder.

The next thing Harry knows, one Goner becomes two goners, then _three_. “ _Shit, Harry!_ PICK UP THE PACE!”

And he’s trying to. He’s really trying to. He feels his joints aching (they don’t normally move like this) and his breathing becoming heavy with all the effort this is taking. They run straight into the darkness, turning at every corner. Louis tightens his grip around Harry’s neck, bringing himself up to look over his shoulder, gasping at every misstep.

“How do they run so fucking fast!?” Louis shrieks.

Harry spots a poorly stacked pile of crates. Harry sprints over there. “Harry, this seems counterproductive!” He kicks the bottom box and the whole stack topples over, creating somewhat of a barrier. It’ll do for now.

“Excellent idea, Harry!” Louis says, genuinely impressed. “Look at your dead brain go! Door is that way!”

He sees it. Harry takes in one deep breath and bolts towards the exit. “Run! Run! As fast as you can!” Louis orders into his hear. “ _Well shit_ , they’ve climbed over the boxes!”

Harry pushes through the door, and Louis hops off of Harry’s arm. He’s piling boxes on top of boxes on top of boxes in front of the exit. “That should do!”

Adrenaline still courses through Harry’s vein. Louis is in the same state. They’re in an empty runway, the door is wiggling, and unhappy snarls are heard from the other side. Their eyes dart in every direction, searching for a solution—they’re royally screwed if they don't.

_“HARRY!”_

Harry spins his entire body towards the direction of the noise. There’s a beat up pickup truck speeding towards them. Harry sees a flash of blonde, a laugh escapes his lips. There's N. Sticking his head out the window. “Harry!” His voice is full of excitement.

Louis groans. “We never catch a break, do we?”

Harry shoots Louis a knowing smirk. _Just you wait._

N hops out of the car as it comes to a jarring halt. “Here! Take it!”

“N…” Harry mutters in disbelief.

“GO!” N pleads, watching the door shake, boxes toppling over.

“Blondie is right!” Louis runs past them, climbing onto the drivers side.

“N…” Harry says. “Why?”

N shakes his head, panting. “I…It’s…I think…”

The door bursts open.

“ _Go, Harry!”_ N pushes him into the truck.

Harry stares back at him with wide eyes as the car door slams shut. He crawls to the window, slamming his fists onto the clear glass. _“NAIIIILLLLL!”_

Louis steps on the pedal, and they’re driving down the runway.

_“Bye Harry! Bye friend!”_ He hears N cry. He watches as N turns around, facing the crowd of Goners and corpses. His arms in the air, as if he has a lot of explaining to do.

Harry turns around, still gasping for air, adrenaline wearing off. N will be okay. Goners are merciless when it comes to Humans, but they have a mutual understanding with the Dead. He’ll be fine. He’s gotta be.

Louis is whooping next to him.

“What a fucking thrill that was!” Louis grins, drumming on the steering wheel. He turns to meet Harry’s stare, his voice becomes soft. _“And you.”_

He’s shaking his head at Harry, with wide eyes and parted lips, an expression that Harry thinks Louis only uses when he’s with Harry. “I can’t believe you came after me.” He slowly turns his attention back onto the road, shifting his eyes towards Harry every now and then. “You really saved me, Harry.”

Harry reaches out, gently placing his hand on Louis’ shoulder. He sees Louis look down at his hand with a shaky breath. Louis doesn’t flinch at all.

“I’ll…I’ll take you home?” Harry asks, but it’s more of a statement then a question.

Louis’ blue eyes meet Harry’s and it’s weird because Louis has never looked at Harry like that. It’s the same look that he uses when he goes on about a band, or when he talks about Zayn and Liam. Harry feels something stir within him under Louis’ stare.

“Yeah,” Louis says with a quiet, raspy voice. “Yeah, you can.”

They’ve stopped driving and Louis is still looking at him. “Harry… _your eyes._ ”

“What?” Harry says frantically, pawing at his eyes.

“Nothing.” Louis says, snapping his head back towards the open road. Louis mutters something to himself. The car ride continues in silence with Louis stealing glances at Harry every now and then.

*****

They had found an empty neighborhood near Louis’ destination. The sky was growing dark and they had both agreed that they needed a place to rest.

“This place seems free of anything that’ll eat us.” Louis had said as they entered the abandoned house. “You excited, Harry?”

“Such…such excitement.” Harry said in his usual monotone voice.

“That’s the spirit.” Louis laughed.

They examined the entire area. It’s a small house. There’s one large bedroom and a child’s bedroom adjacent to it. The downstairs is small and cozy, with a living room and kitchen area. Every surface is layered with dust and the lights flicker periodically.

“It’s weird to think that this was once a family’s house,” Louis spiels. Harry is seated on the couch, playing with the fabric, while Louis wanders around, closing all the curtains. “I bet you this was owned by a family that was just starting out. Sad, innit?”

“The sink works, so that’s nice.” Louis announces, joining Harry in the living room. “And my clothes reek and your clothes have always reeked. Shall I wash them?”

Harry blinks at him. “Wha?”

“Wash them. Clothes. Wash. Stink.” Louis annunciates. “Normal people like to keep clean, you know.”

Harry furiously nods, as if he's suddenly grasped the concept. “Take off your clothes then.” He stops Harry as he’s about to pull down his briefs. “ _Not those!_ Haha….keep…keep those on.”

So now, they’re sitting on opposite ends of the room, both in their briefs, and waiting for their clothes to dry.

They don’t say anything.

“Damn, that is one big tattoo.” Louis finally says, staring at Harry’s chest. He struts over to Harry, bending over as he looks closely at it. “You’ve got a butterfly on your stomach. I wonder why…” Louis’ fingers ghost his skin as he examines every individual tattoo. “ _‘G’_ …what do you think that stands for?”

“Gem...” Harry whispers.

“Who’s that?” Louis replies, shocked by Harry’s answer.

Harry shrugs. “Oh.” Louis straightens. “Well I think you were the kind of guy that put meaning behind the ink. I wouldn’t worry.”

Harry’s stomach rumbles. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

“I won’t eat you!” Harry feels the need to blurt out.

“I know.” Louis smiles, wandering off into the kitchen. “But you still need to eat.” Louis returns with a pink tabbed can. “Peaches!”

He sits himself beside Harry, fumbling with the tab. Their bare knees touch and Harry twists his legs away for Louis sake, but Louis presses their legs together anyway, and suddenly, it’s so warm. He offers the opened can to Harry. “First time for everything, right?” Harry stares into the contents of the can. “Just eat it. I bet you liked fruit.”

Opting to please Louis, he reluctantly tips the can towards his mouth, the content and all of its juices slide down Harry’s mouth.

_Wow._ Harry stifles a groan as the taste hits him.

“It’s…” Harry starts, juice dribbling down his chin.

“Good? Sweet?” Louis finishes.

It’s that. It’s delicious, tangy and sweet. But Harry thinks that it also tastes like sunbeams, the sound of Louis’ voice, his touch, his laugh, sugary and warm, bubbling in his stomach. He tosses the can after downing it.

“Knew you would like it,” Louis says. “It seems like your style. I would get used to it.”

“More?” Harry says, batting his eyelashes.

Louis laughs. “Later. Don’t want you to get a stomach ache.”

He’s staring at Harry again, longer and pensively. “You’re so fucking weird you know that?”

“Why?” Harry asks, his brows furrowed, slightly offended.

“You’re just,” Louis searches for the word, “different!”

Louis sighs in exasperation. “I mean, you must’ve been the nicest guy before you died. Do you even know what happened to you?” Louis doesn’t give Harry time to respond. “When I was in high school, war started breaking out all over the world. It’s hard to explain, but it was chaos. Invasions were happening at any given moment. Governments were crumbling. They needed everybody. They even took Zayn’s dad—and he was a peaceful man. Anyway, unfair, disgusting chemical raids happened. It was a weapon that just killed, you know? They used it to clear small areas, like your airport. The minute they realized what was happening to the dead bodies, coming back to life and all…they destroyed the weapon. But it still left something poisonous in the air. If you’re not immune like myself, then you become sick. It’s horrible, it’s miserable, and then you die. And then you become..." He points to Harry. "You. And it’s just unfair, you know? You were innocent.”

Louis shakes his head. “I hated the war. It ended. I mean, it had to with the outbreak of killer zombies. After that, it's been every man for himself.”

“I just wish that…” Louis’ voice trails off, his mind somewhere else. “War sucks. My family…” He begins with shaky breaths. “I was at my part time when they all died. Our town had some of the worst riots, and when I came home one day, my house was in flames. The worst part was that I wasn’t there. See, this is what happens when you don’t stick together. _You’ve got to stick together_.”

Realizing that Harry is still in the room, that he’s the one Louis is talking to, he scoots closer. “Just know that you were innocent, okay? Fuck, this world sucks. You know at base, they teach us to just kill. Kill anyone who’s not immune. Kill the sick. Kill you guys. You guys are supposed to be ruthless, right?”

His blue blue eyes pierces through every fiber of Harry. “But I look at you and I just…I just can’t believe it. Ignoring the fact that you killed my best friend, but hey, you were surviving and you didn’t know. And you were _genuinely_ sorry. That’s weird. _You're_ weird.”

Louis takes a deep breath. “I talk a lot.”

“No kidding.”

“Is that sarcasm, I hear?” Louis says. “You’re learning." Louis yawns. “Tired. Are you?”

Harry’s not sure. He’s just listened to Louis ramble about all this history, and he looked at him with those eyes, and he feels like he won't be able to stand, honestly.

“Come on,” Louis pulls Harry up anyway. “We’re staying in the same room, my knight in shining armor.”

  *****

Louis’ lying on the bed and Harry’s on the floor, back in their clothes.

Harry gazes up at the ceiling. Louis’ everything surrounds him like a whisper. He can’t sleep.

“Harry?” Louis’ voice breaks Harry’s daze. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor, you know.”

Harry stiffens.

“I mean, you can stay on the floor if you want, if that’s the kind of shit your into, but you know, I figured you probably haven’t slept in a bed in a long time and you’re not going to eat me and it’s okay.” Louis rambles, patting the spot next to him. “C’mon.”

Harry scrambles to his feet, climbing onto the bed. Louis throws the blanket over him and now they’re lying next to each other, noses barely touching.

“Right,” Louis whispers as he settles into their cocoon of blankets.

“Yeah,” Harry says, trying to still his quick breaths (he’s so close to Louis!!).

The room is silent, fixed with peace, yet Harry’s mind won’t stop spinning.

“You saved me today,” Louis finally says, again.

“I know.”

“You didn’t even think about it.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re nice,” He breathes out.

Harry burrows his face into his pillow, hiding the undeniable blush that Louis has caused.

“And you’re dead,” Louis states, almost nonchalantly. Harry looks at him, serious. He sees Louis falter underneath his gaze.

“I don’t feel like it,” Harry murmurs.

They’re so close, but not close enough.

_“I know.”_

Louis closes his eyes, and Harry falls asleep to the sound of Louis' even breathing. 

 

  *****

When Harry wakes up, there's puddle of drool on his pillow and no Louis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support. Feel free to comment.  
> *  
> tommothetrain.tumblr.com


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zombie AU. One day Harry wakes up and he’s dead. Or undead. Dead, but not dead. Whatever. This is his life and it kinda sucks, but Harry likes to think that there's more waiting for him beyond the coldness of his heart.
> 
> or
> 
> The one where Harry yearns for something warm, Louis won't stop talking, Zayn and Liam are out for zombie blood, and Niall is Harry's zombie best friend who thinks his name is Naill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! As promised, here is the last part. Thank you so much for the kind feedback. Also I apologize immensely for the errors in my previous chapter. Ugh, how embarrassing. I will also probably go back and fix any and all errors in this chapter. I just had to get it out as soon as possible. 
> 
> As always, please comment afterwards and if you would like to say anything please don't be afraid to drop by: tommothetrain.tumblr.com  
> Thanks again for allowing me to learn through my first fic writing experience. :) Enjoy!

**-N-**

Naill is standing in the middle of an orchard, a systematic line of trees surround him. A light breeze dances through Naill’s hair. He looks down at his bare feet, wiggling his toes in the soil beneath him. The sun shines on the back of his neck, the white puffy clouds move slowly through the blue sky and all of this is so strange, Naill thinks.

_Where is he?_

The many questions that race through his mind remain unanswered as he feels himself float up into the sky, his arms outstretched, watching as the trees below him grow smaller and—

He’s eight years old. The faces of strangers surround him with proud, beaming faces. _Human faces._ How do so many people fit in such a tiny house, is all Naill thinks.

Then a large birthday cake is placed in front of him and Naill’s instinct kicks in. With grabby hands, he rips a chunks off the cake, and _mgghhaa_ it’s so good. The adults around him laugh as a very tall man scolds him, lighting the candles.

This must be his birthday party.

"There’s my Niall! Always eating, he is.” A woman says, probably his mum, placing gentle hands on his shoulder.

_Niall._

"He’ll grow up to be a lady killer, that one.” A man with a heavy accent says, he thinks this is his dad.

  _Niall._

“Especially with that face!” His dad continues, pointing at Niall’s icing decorated face. The room laughs. “Happy birthday, Niall! Blow out your candles!”

Before Niall can do anything, the people in front of him disappear in wisps, their images dissolving right before his eyes. The room spins and now he’s sitting in the backroom of a pub. And there’s… _Harry,_ sitting right across from him. His brown hair is much curlier that what it is now, his big eyes are green and in thought. He bites his lips as he his taps a pencil on the pages of a notebook. He looks so healthy, vibrant and full of color.

And there’s Niall, obviously older than Cake Eating Niall. His arms hug a guitar, his fingers picking at the strings, forming a series of notes that Harry begins to sing along to.

“You and I should start a band.” Harry says as the song comes to a close. Funnily enough, this Harry’s voice is similar to dead Harry. Deep, husky, and slow like honey.

“Y’know I’m all about it, Haz, but we’re both very broke.” Niall says. He’s surprised by his very heavy accent.

“And we’re in London. We should be doing things!” Harry urges. “We could call ourselves: Two Lads In Londons. It’s blunt, obvious and therefore, intriguing.”

“We can’t start anything in this bloody messed up world.” Niall laughs, absentmindedly strumming chords. “You’re crazy for thinking so.” 

“But at least I’m 100% real.” Harry drawls, wiggling his eyebrows.

“If that’s a dig at my manufactured, perfect blonde hair then I’m not amused.” Niall says with a straight face. But his face breaks out in a grin and they’re both roaring with laughter.

Now he’s behind a counter, clad in his white button down shirt, black jeans and ugh, green apron. He thought that he had seen the last of that. The name tag that sits on his chest clearly reads _Niall_ and Niall huffs. Here he thought he was some business man, but no. Niall served coffee to travelers in a very busy airport. Speaking of travelers, there’s Harry again. He’s wheeling a small carry on, staring straight ahead. This is the Harry that Niall is familiar with, crazy chestnut hair and ripped up jeans.  

“Harry!” Niall calls out over the roar of nearby carolers and bustling travelers. _“Harry!”_

Harry clumsily spins around before spotting Niall, shooting him a toothy grin.

"Niall!” A taller, leaner Harry walks up to the counter with infectious energy. “Aren’t I just lucky?”

“I know. So blessed to be in my godly presence.” Niall sighs, flipping his nonexistent weave.  “Going home for the holidays?”

“Yeah, mum sent me a ticket so looks like I’m making it home for Christmas after all.’ Harry says. “And I guess you’re staying here?”

Niall nods sadly. “Yeah, one of us has to be the hardworking one, right?” Harry protests. “ ‘s true. Without me, there would be no funds for our future band. Plus, home isn’t safe anymore, so.” 

“You’ll still have fun, mate. You’re always having a good time.” Harry says comfortingly. He grips Niall’s hand across the counter. “I need to head out or I’ll miss my flight. I’ll see you later, okay? Big love?”

“Big love.” Niall smiles, as he slides his hands out from Harry’s. It’s this thing that they do when they’re feeling sentimental or when they say goodbye. It’s nice to have something that’s constant in a world full of uncertainty. Harry shoots Niall one last smile before he turns his back on him.

And Niall wants to scream at him, _It’s not safe. Stay with me! Don’t go!_

But he wakes up instead.

Bolting up from his position he sees that he’s fallen asleep on the baggage carousel, the familiar broken area with its falling lights and blown up walls greet Niall as he spins round and round.

Niall is freaking out. He just had a dream.

The dead never dream.

**-H-**

Harry didn’t think that it was possible to feel this way.

It’s a horrible feeling, really.

It's the feeling of your heart being wrenched from its spot, being twisted in place every time you think of his touch. It's the feeling of your throat constricting every time you imagine him in front of you, laughing. It's the feeling of a terrible pressure crashing into your stomach every time you realize he’s not there and he’s never going to be there. Your mouth dries up every time you try to work it out in that _‘dead little brain’_ of yours. It’s the tugging at your core, a yearning for his voice, and the complete and utter heaviness in your bones because _he’s not there._

If this is what heartbreak is, then Harry would never wish it upon anyone.

He’s back to the start, lost and lonely, finding his way back to the airport, left with only the gut wrenching events from this morning.

Harry had zoomed out of bed the minute he realized that Louis was not next to him. A sick feeling had formed in his stomach, not wanting to believe that Louis was taken from him. Maybe by a Goner? Guilt overtook Harry as he searched the house. He let Louis slip from his fingers and he was probably hurt, scared, and waiting for Harry to rescue him. However, as Harry searched their hideaway, there was no struggle to be investigated, only the remnants from last night’s dinner. Then Harry walked out of the house, an empty drive way greeting him. _There was no car._ Realization dawned on him and now, here he is.

Lost, lonely, and heartbroken, finding his way back to the airport.

Louis had left him.

How stupid was Harry to think that Louis had actually given a damn about him? That Louis had actually fallen for a _zombie?_ Harry had taken Louis to his checkpoint and that’s all he needed to do. Louis was probably home by now, basking in the love that Zayn and Liam could offer him and Harry was probably just a distant memory.

With the airport at his sight, Harry continues to make his way home, ignoring the aching of his joints and the hole in his heart.

 

  *****

Harry finds N at the airport’s convenient store, staring at a package of blonde hair dye.

Harry quietly slides next to N, bumping his shoulder to alert him of his presence. N snaps his head towards Harry, doing a double take when he realizes his friend his back.

"Harry!” N grips Harry’s elbow, taken aback from his return. “You’re back!”

His smile falters. “You’re back…why?” He stands on his tip toes, searching for something. “Where’s friend?”

N is acting weird, Harry thinks. His voice is lighter than usual and he’s bouncing with energy that Harry had no idea he was capable of.

“He’s home.” Harry mutters to the ground, wanting a change of subject. “Gone.”

“Oh ‘arry…” N says, snaking his hand around Harry’s waist, rubbing comforting circles on his back.

Harry shakes N off of him. “ ‘m fine. I’m home.”

N doesn’t believe him. _“Listen.”_

N’s persistence immediately captures Harry’s attention. “Things are happening.”

“Things?” Harry gasps softly, as if this was the biggest piece of information anybody could ever hear.

“S-so many things.” N reiterates. He pulls Harry close. “And Harry, I had…dream. I had a dream.”

And if N’s _‘listen’_ didn’t capture Harry’s attention, well this did. Harry takes a step back, eyes bulging. Zombies don’t dream. That part of their brain didn’t work and what was there to dream about anyway?

“About what?” Harry asks with a puzzled expression.

“Memories.” N says and Harry can tell he’s trying to stifle his excitement. “Memories, Harry!”

The first reaction that Harry has is one of jealousy, but the pure fact that N was able to dream overshadows it. A grin spreads from cheek to cheek. “Tell!”

“I saw parents…” N begins to list. This is so new to Harry. He and N were actually conversing. They were sharing ideas and feelings. They were using their words. As N continues his monologue, Harry’s unadulterated joy increases. “I ate cake and Harry!” N’s eyes light up like Harry has never seen before, taking Harry’s hand in his. “You. I saw you.”

“We…were friends?” Harry says and he feels his bottom lip begin to wobble.

“Best.” N smiles.

Harry grips N’s hand as tightly as possible, his smile unwavering. If he doesn’t have Louis, he atleast has N. His best friend. And if his best friend couldn’t be any more energetic---well.

“And Harry!” N gasps, as if he had forgotten the most important part.

“What?”

“My name,” N begins, his hands shakily find their way to Harry’s shoulder. He grips them, prepping Harry for his news. “It’s Niall! My. Name. Is. Niall.”

“Niall?” Harry asks, just to make sure, mimicking N, taking hold of N’s shoulders.

_“Niall.”_

“Niall.” Harry says to himself. He looks back at his blonde friend, who’s beaming up at him with…bright eyes.

Harry loves the name.

 _“NIALL!”_ They both cry in unison, jumping up and down, holding on to one another with sheer joy.

This celebration is way better than the time _Niall_ thought his name was Nail.

"Wait, Niall!” Harry stops jumping. “I ran.” Niall’s eyes widen. Zombies don’t have the agility nor the strength to run. Their joints just don’t work like humans because, well, because they were dead. “Ran so fast.”

"Harry,” Niall says in quiet excitement. “I think…I think we’re turning.”

“Human?” Harry asks, biting his lip. The influx of good news is really taking him through a roller coaster ride of emotions. “You think?”

N nods vigorously. “Not just me. Others. They’re starting to. To want. To think. They see you and friend and they see everything around us and _they want_.”

 _Of course_ , Harry thinks. It makes perfect sense. Maybe they were never dead to begin with. Maybe they were just lost, empty. Harry thinks about all the times in which he would find a new object to collect, how much he wanted to discover its worth. How did humans use them? What was its history? What was its purpose? He remembers the times in which he had laughed with Niall. The quick fleeting feelings of warmth they would give him, as if remembering an old friend. He remembers when he lost the ability to read the words around him. He quickly pulls the card that’s still in pocket. It’s a bit damp from its latest wash, but the words are clear to Harry again. And now, like many times before, Harry wants to know more of his past. To bask in the light and life that the human world gave him. And then there’s Louis. His voice, his smile, his laugh, his eyes, his---everything. That’s what is bringing Harry back to life, to reality. Maybe the love that he feels for Louis is what’s sparking his heart to beat like Louis’. Maybe love is the answer to all of this.

“But Harry,” Niall’s eyes grow dark, snapping Harry out of his trance. “The killers.”

“Goners,” Harry corrects, motioning Niall to continue.

“Goners…they know.” Niall says. “Don’t like it. They don’t like it. They’re grouping and they’re going after humans.”

“Why?” Harry asks, horrified.

“No humans in city after…after the time we went together.” _When he found Louis_. “No more humans. All hungry. Then friend…friend came and left.” Louis. “Now we’re changing. Goners are mad. They’re going to find friend. They’re going to find friend and humans and kill. Kill them.”

This is all Harry’s fault. He brought Louis to his airport and now the Goners are after him. Those vicious creatures are not going to stop at anything.

“I-I need-I...” Harry is rendered speechless.

“Find friend. Find his home and tell him.” Niall says, slow and calm. “You could be together.”

Niall’s last sentence echoes in Harry’s mind. _They could be together._ Niall stares at him knowingly, as if he sensed this from the beginning. Harry needs to find Louis. He needs to tell him what is happening to them and then he needs to warn his friends. He needs to save them all. Then…then maybe Louis will realize. Then they could be together.

The idea is simply unbelievable, too good to be true.

“Harry, your eyes are leaking!” Niall cries, reaching for Harry’s wet eyes.

“No, Niall.” Harry brushes Niall’s hands away with a wobbly smile, wiping the tears forming in his own eyes. “I’m crying.”

He’s crying. _God, I’m becoming more alive every second,_ Harry thinks.

“I wanna cry too!” Niall gasps, pawing at his own eyes.

“You dream, Niall!” Harry offers, trying to calm his own emotions.

Harry and Louis are so close, yet so far away.

Fortunately, Louis had told him where his home was in relation to the city. It wasn’t hard to miss, said Louis. It was surrounded by tall, concrete walls and its entrance was an even taller, menacing gate, guarded heavily by the base’s army. Luckily, he had Stan’s memories to help him with the finding Louis part. The secret way in and Louis’ apartment door are embedded in his brain.

“I’ll help you, Harry.” Niall’s voice interrupts Harry’s strategic planning in his head. “You go first. I’ll find more friends and we’ll help.”

Niall preens under Harry’s appreciative expression. He’s so proud to have a friend like Niall. He finds himself yearning for memories of their friendship, but the thought is immediately squashed, because look at them now. He pulls Niall close to him, wrapping his longs arms around him. Niall returns the bone crushing hug, swaying them both from side to side.

“Big love?” Niall asks, his hair tickles Harry’s cheek.

“Big love.” Harry intuitively says.

“We’re going to stop the Goners!” Harry states, pulling away from Niall. “We’ll take them down.”

 Niall beams at Harry, raising his arms in triumph. “Fuck…yeah!”

 Harry loves this Niall.

 

**-L-**

Louis hates to admit it, but he has fallen hard for a zombie.

Figuratively and literally.

No really, _literally_. When he pulled himself away from Harry’s grip that morning (yes, Harry managed to snuggle up against Louis during their sleep. His front side was pushed up against Louis’ backside and his hot breath taunted Louis’ neck and details, details.), he discovered that Louis had found their closeness _very_ pleasurable. Grabbing a pillow to cover his obviously hard menace of a dick, Louis jetted off into the truck, fear resonating in the pit of his stomach.

Louis may or may not be crushing on a zombie. No. Louis may or may not be crushing on Harry.

Because despite the cold paler than most skin, the tired icy gray eyes, inclination (hopefully, not anymore) towards human flesh, and torn up clothes, there’s Harry. Harry who laughs at all of Louis attempts to be funny, even when they fail most of the time. There’s Harry who will resort to acting like a complete idiot just to please Louis. There’s Harry who hangs onto every word Louis utters when he’s explaining a song, telling a story, or just aimlessly babbling. There’s Harry who looks at Louis as if he carries the whole world at his fingertips. There’s Harry who just seems to want, more than anything, to understand. There’s Harry who sacrificed his own life for Louis on more than one occasion. There’s Harry with the cute giggle, puppy eyes, and dimples. And yet, Louis drove away from this Harry.

But he had to leave. He has to protect Harry. All the good qualities in Harry don’t matter. He’s still dead and he’s still a ‘threat’. The idea that Harry could possible whisk Louis back home, to live happily ever after, was doomed from the start. They would kill Louis for bringing such a threat to society into their walls, _after_ they would kill Harry.

Harry doesn’t deserve that.

He deserves a chance and the longer he stayed with Louis, the less he would have of that. This is him saving Harry, Louis tries to tell himself. He couldn’t explain this to Harry, he wouldn’t have it.

He still has the memory of Harry’s eyes flashing green for him in the car, a fleeting moment. He has this gut feeling that there’s a spark in Harry, something that keeps Harry human. He believes there’s hope for Harry. Harry needs to go back to his airplane, to let his (fucking cute) collection teach him. He needs to find friendship in Blondie. Harry needs to be there.

And Louis needs to be here. Standing in front of apartment door 6C, Louis takes a shaky breath before rapping quietly on the door. His body responds with nervous energy as he hears an, _“I got it, Zayn!”_ and the quiet footsteps of most likely Liam. He is going to be reunited with his two best friends and roommates. They were going to spin around and dance in a circle because they love each other so much and they _missed_ Louis so much.

The door opens. “Helllll—“ Liam greets, until he realizes who’s actually standing in front of him. Liam is completely frozen, his mouth agape, his stare fixed on Louis’ face. A tense silence overpowers the space between them.

“Helloooo,” Louis smiles weakly. “Seems that I’ve lost my key.”

Finally Liam’s shocked expression transitions into something akin to anger. _Oh boy._

His left hands hooks onto the front of Louis’ shirt, pulling him in, he uses his right hand to beat Louis’ chest. Ow.

“You!” Ow. “Fucking!” Ow. “Asshole!” _Ow._

“Liam, I—“

Liam doesn’t stop there, his face is red and his hands are shaking. “We!” Punch. “Were!” Whack. “Worried!” Shove. “Sick!” Beat. “About!” Punch. “You!”

With his hands fisted in Louis’ shirt, his face so close to Louis’, he shakes him. “ _A week!_ How fucking dare you, Louis Tomlinson!” Louis flinches in utter terror. But then Liam’s bottom lip trembles, and his face crumples as he pulls at Louis, urgently throwing his arms over Louis’ shoulders.

“I-I’m so happy you’re here.” Liam says shakily, burying his nose in Louis’ neck. “Don’t fucking do that again.”

Louis swallows the lump in his throat, feeling hot tears spill on his neck, sliding down his collar bone. “Are you crying, Liam?” He doesn’t ask this mockingly like he would any other day. He says this with such genuine surprise because here’s Liam having all these emotions over Louis’ absence.

“He has every right to.” A meek voice says.

Then another body crashes into his, joining his and Liam’s embrace. And it’s Zayn, murmuring incoherent sentences into Louis’ shoulders. _“Thought you were dead, mate.”_ And he needs Zayn to stop sniffling in his ear before Louis’ tears stream down like Niagara Falls.

“Such an asshole.” Zayn whispers, echoing Liam. Yes, Louis gets the point.

" _Maybe_ , but you love me for it.”

After a chorus of, _‘are you alright?’_ s and _‘can we do anything for you?’_ s, a freshly showered Louis sits cross-legged on Zayn’s bed. With a blanket wrapped over his shoulders, he blows at his hot cup of tea (ugh, he missed it so much) as Zayn and Liam sit across from him (how they all fit in his bunk, Louis doesn’t know) eagerly awaiting Louis’ explanation. 

“So what the fuck happened?” Zayn says, lightly shoving Louis’ knees, causing his tea to drip.

“Patience, Zayn.” Louis smirks, bringing the cup to his lips. He turns to Liam, “Must be difficult in the bedroom.”

_“Louis!”_

“Fine! What do you remember?” Louis chuckles, setting his tea on the floor.

“The last time I saw you, you had your gun knocked out of your hands. I couldn’t do anything. A zombie jumped me.” Zayn gulps. “We thought you were a goner.”

“I tried looking for you,” Liam quickly says with guilty eyes. “But there were too many of them and we couldn’t find you anywhere. _Please, Louis_. Please don’t think that we just left you.”

“Liam,” Louis rolls his eyes. “I know. I get it. And I’m here now. So just--let me explain.”

And he does. He starts from the beginning, the frying pan incident all the way to the house in the vacant neighborhood. He talks about being chased by Goners with exaggerated motions and driving the sickest truck. He mentions living off of canned food in an abandoned airplane. And of course, he mentions his one and only savior, Harry (“yes, a zombie, Liam!”). However, he opts to leave out the fact that he may or may not have fallen head over heels for Harry.

“So…I said a thank you and goodbye to my zombie friend and drove to the Gate. And now I’m here.” Louis finishes, waiting for his friends’ response.

“Uh,” Liam splutters, metaphorically picking up his jaw from the floor. “So you were taken by a zombie.”

" _Saved_ by a zombie.” Louis corrects.

“Whatever, _a dead guy_.” Liam says. “And you became friends with him!?”

“Maybe?”

“And he didn’t even like, threaten to eat you?” Liam continues. God, he was being so judgey.

“No, Liam.” Louis sighs.

“Well don’t you think that’s mad weird, Lou!” Liam cries.

“Well, yes.”

Zayn throws his hands in the air and Liam drops his head in his hands, sighing.

“ _Well, yes_!” Louis repeats defensively. “The good kind of weird. Look, he even had a name.”

“A name?” Zayn replies.

“Yes, Zayn.” Louis says. “A name. _Harry_. And he talked, a little bit. More than he should. Isn’t that fucking awesome? It’s so weird and different, so it must mean something.”

“Like, what?”

“I dunno!” Louis sighs, exasperatedly. “He just…just didn’t seem dead is all?”

“Maybe!” But Liam says, still trying to grasp the concept. “But he was still among the thousands (“dozens, Liam.”) of zombies that went hunting after our flesh! Doesn’t that scream danger? Louis, he’s still one of them.”

“He saved my life!” Louis says, his face heating up. _Why is he getting so offended by this?_ “He saved my life! How many times do I have to repeat that?”

“Look, Louis.” Zayn begins, his eyebrows raised, probably finding all of this humorous. “I know that you’re probably still gaga over this dead, tragic hero. Your very own Edward Cullen. But he’s there and you’re here. You’re alive and he’s dead.”

Louis rolls his eyes, groaning.

“No wait Lou!” Zayn stops, stifling his laughter. “When…when you kissed him, did his breath stink?

“I am not gaga over, him!” Louis whines. “If you had met him, you would understand. _Zayn. Liam_.” Their laughter dies down as Louis attempts to be serious for a moment. “Harry was from the airport. He didn’t just stumble upon it. He literally woke up in the airport.”

“The one that they bombed.” Liam says quietly to himself. It was two years ago. They were just eighteen. It was complete devastation, all over the news. It was one of many surprise attacks. One of many situations that left families searching for their loved ones. 

“Harry was probably our age, maybe older.” Louis stutters. “He-He was probably going home to his family and-and he was innocent. How could I look at him after all that and think he’s a monster? None of this is his fault.”

 All Louis can see in his mind are Harry’s big, puppy dog eyes, staring down at him.

"You…” Zayn starts. “You really care about him?”

Louis grows quiet, letting his mind wander to memories of Harry. It was a no brainer. “Well, of course. He was nice and he took care of me.” He feels his cheeks begin to heat up. “I wouldn’t be here, with you guys, if it wasn’t for him.”

Zayn and Liam share a look, their eyes starting a conversation that Louis wants in on.

“What?” Louis sighs.

“It’s just…” Zayn begins, but his gaze never reaches Louis’ eyes. He nudges Liam, whispering something that Louis can’t hear.

“We don’t want to be the ones to tell you this.” Liam says. “But there haven’t been any raids since the last time we went. Too many fatalities.” _Stan._ “They were not happy about it, Louis. Now we heard this from Nick Grimshaw, so maybe it isn’t true but…but the Admiral has been gathering weapons. Midnight---He’s taking the army into the city and they’re going to kill every single zombie in the area. He’s going to wipe them out, Louis. It’ll only be us left.”

 _Harry._ Louis’ heart immediately sinks. A feeling of defeat and complete hopelessness plunges into the pit of his stomach. His head falls as he tries to take in uneven breaths.

“Louis, I’m sorry.” Liam says. “He just think it’s for the best.”

Not for Harry.

“He doesn’t deserve this.” He mumbles, finding the bed sheets far more interesting than the eyes of his friends.

He didn’t even get to say goodbye.

A knock at the door interrupts their thoughts.

“I’ll get it.” Zayn says, beginning to get up. Louis stops him.

“No I’ll get it.” Louis says.

“Really, Lou I shou---“

“No.” Louis’ voice causes Zayn to quickly sit down. “I’ll get it.” He needs to get out of this room. He was suffocating. As soon as he stands, all of his overwhelming emotions and thoughts, crash into him like a freight train. He walks to the floor, dragging his feet along the carpet. _Now Louis feels dead._

“I’m here, I’m here.” Louis sighs, opening the door.

He’s immediately welcomed by a head of crazy brown curls, dimples and eyes the size of the moon.

_“Lou.”_

Louis gasps in genuine shock, his face twisting in disbelief. He instinctively pulls him in. Surging his body forward, he throws his arms over the tall boy, his body quivering in astonishment and utter relief.

“ _Harry.”_ Louis murmurs his name over and over. This can’t be real. Harry’s arms are tight around him, his head buried in the crook of Louis’ neck.

“We stick together.” Harry whispers, his lips brushing against Louis’ skin.

Louis squeezes his eyes shut. “Yeah…Harry. We stick together.”

“Missed you, Louis.” He says quietly.

“Well, absence makes the heart grow fonder….or forgetful.” Louis laughs, he wasn’t quite sure. “I missed you too.”

_“Ahem.”_

They both pull apart from eachother only to see Zayn and Liam. They look scarily similar, arms crossed and staring at them with suspicious looks.

“Hi Liam. Hi Zayn.” Harry adorably says, wiggling his fingers at them.

“Do…do we know you?” Zayn asks, his brow furrowed.

Louis coughs, “Zayn. Liam. This…this is Harry.”

“The _ZOMBIE?!_ ”

Louis yelps, slamming the door behind Harry. He grabs Harry’s hand, dragging him towards the living room. “No! _Harry_ _Potter_ , you loud dumbfucks! What’s the matter with you?!”

Liam and Zayn follow Louis, a chorus of sentences spill out of their annoying lips.

 _“This is Harry?”_

_“Shouldn’t we put a leash on him?”_

_“He’s going to fucking eat us, isn’t he?”_

_"_ _I had no bloody idea.”_

_“I’m going to get a leash.”_

_“And my gun.”_

_“He doesn’t even smell! That bad…”_

“Shut it!” Louis screams. Zayn and Liam freeze in different positions. They slowly sulk over the couch across from Harry and Louis, eyeing Harry wearily. Louis turns to Harry, their knees pressed together. “Now Harry, jesus. How did you get here?”

“Not important.”

“What do you mean, you fucking appear on my doorstep, like ho—“

 _“Louis.”_ Louis stops, surprised by the tone of Harry's voice. “We’re changing. All of us are…becoming human again.”

“What? How do you know?” Louis asks incredulously.

“We’re talking, running, dreaming, crying…” Harry begins to list. _“We’re feeling.”_

Louis looks at Zayn and Liam. “They’re feeling. They’re having emotions, Zayn. Liam.”

“He’s expressing himself.” Liam states with wide eyes. “He’s actually expressing himself.”

“We’re beginning to see that we can change.” Harry explains, slowly. And Louis is so proud of him. “Because of us, Louis. We inspire.”

“Harry…”

He thinks back to the other day. Where Harry and Louis were stood in front of a dozen of zombies and Goners, their hands intertwined.

“But the Goners. They’re coming.” Silence washes over the room. “They’re not happy. They’re going to kill all the humans. It’ll only be us. They want us to be like them.”

“No, that’s not possible. They could never get in.” Louis shakes his head.

Harry does the opposite. “They know ways, Lou. They’re…crazy.”

Of course they are. He know a lot about Goners.

“It’s the same over here, Harry. The admiral isn’t happy and he’s planning on exterminating you guys. And he’s not going to stop till it’s just us occupying the area.” Louis explains.

“Do something. We have to.” Harry says with ferocity.

Harry is right. They can’t just sit and let the admiral kill the diseased like Harry. Not when they had the chance to live again.

“Okay, but we have till midnight.”  Louis agrees.

“Niall…” Harry begins.

“Blondie?” Louis asks.

Harry nods. “Niall can take care of the Goners. He has people.”

“Of course. And we’ll find the admiral and we’ll warn him about the Goners. And we’ll tell him that there’s a cure.” He jumps up from the couch triumphantly, pulling Harry with him. “The world is going to change Harry and we’ll be the ones to thank!”

“WAIT!”

Liam’s voice screams at them before they can even reach the door.  Ready to tell off Liam, Louis turns with his hands on his hip. “He’s not leaving with you.”

Louis glares at Liam, _ohh the words he wants to say to Liam._

“He’s not leaving.” Liam repeats. _“Not looking like that.”_

 

*****

So maybe Louis got a tad bit too excited when Liam said the word ‘makeover’ and ‘Harry’ in the same sentence.  Louis was just really used to makeovers, he had four younger sisters for fuck’s sake, okay? Also, the sheer fact that Liam had demonstrated his approval of Harry and his loyalty to their side really pleased Louis, more than he would like to admit. Zayn automatically whisked him away, muttering something like, _‘do you think I’d leave the poor lad with you lot’_ and _‘I’m the only one with taste around here’_. To which Louis responded with, _‘then why do you have the hots for Liam’_ and okay, he deserved those punches that time. First, Harry desperately needed a shower. Despite the fact that the smell of usual rotting flesh didn’t exist on Harry, he still needed to be rid of the years of dirt and grime. Zayn had shoved him into their bathroom, ordering him to take off his clothes and hop into the tub.

“All ya have to do is turn the little knobby thing, Harry!” Zayn shouted through the door. “Grunt once for _‘I got it’_ and twice for _‘I don’t understand’_!”

They thought it was all smooth sailing once they heard water running, but the jarring sound of a crash and a soft, _‘owwww’_ squashed all hopes. The three boys bolted into the bathroom to see Harry, lying down in the bathtub, messily tangled in shower curtains. His expression read, _‘why me’_. Liam had to usher Louis and Zayn out as they were shaking with laughter.

Harry was always the clumsy one.

Then after Zayn spritzed an obnoxious amount of cologne on Harry (not that Louis was complaining, he won’t admit to the fact that he likes to linger when he hugs Zayn, his smell very cool and inviting), they pushed him along into the bedroom, pulling clothes for Harry to choose from. Of course Harry chose Zayn’s tightest jeans and one of Louis’ band shirts. He’s very rock and roll like that. Harry said something muffled about the softness of Louis’ shirt and the smile on Louis’ face went unnoticed by Zayn. Then Louis pushed past Zayn and Liam, stating that he should be the one to do Harry’s hair since he, in his very humble opinion, had the best hair out of all of them (Zayn scoffed). Did Louis run his hands through Harry’s hair more than he needed to? Maybe. And did Louis let his hands linger against Harry’s cheek as he brushed the curls out of his face? Probably. All for good reasons.

Now Zayn and Louis patiently wait as Liam applies bronzer on Harry’s face, as he needs color. Harry’s back is to the two waiting men, a towel draped over him. Liam keeps fiddling with the brush in his hand, stepping back as if he was fucking Van Gogh himself, admiring his art work before returning to his canvas.

“For the love of god, Liam!” Louis shouts. “We’re anxiously waiting over here.”

“I have to get it right!” Liam snaps, returning his attention to Harry, cooing at him _. Ugh._

“Where’d you get that make up, Liam?” Louis says, interrupting Liam yet again. Harry is supposed to pay attention to Louis _, not Liam_. “Do you and Zayn roleplay, then?”

Liam drops the make up in his hands, his face turning scarlet while Zayn scolds Louis. “For the last time, there is no Zayn and I! Stop implying that there is!” Now, Zayn’s grimace goes unnoticed by Louis. “And I’m done anyway.”

Liam turns Harry in his chair, swiping the towel from his body. Harry stands up and twirls on Liam’s orders, stumbling a bit. He stands still, biting his lip, looking at Louis for approval.

“Be still my beating heart.” Zayn mutters next to Louis.

Louis simply nods, despite the fact that other naughty choice words swim through his mind. “Looks good.”

“He’s so beautiful!” Zayn mock swoons, fainting across Louis’ lap.

“Right?” Liam says, proud of their work. “Looks proper human, I would say.”

Louis pushes Zayn off, standing up. “How do you feel, Harry? Feeling human?”

Harry’s lip quirks up. “I feel…I feel…” Harry’s eyes roll up to the back of his head and his hand floats straight up, flailing about. “BRAINNNNNSSS! ARGHHHH!”

Liam, Zayn, and Louis jump back, clinging on to eachother, shouting over one another. Liam already has his gun out.

_“HARRY NO!”_

_“I TOLD YOU IT COULD NEVER HAPPEN!”_

_“I SAID PUT A FUCKING LEASH ON IT!”_

Harry drops his hands, reaching out for the boys. “Wait! Wait!” They all freeze. He smiles sheepishly. “I-I joke.” He shrugs. “I joke too.”

Zayn and Liam gape at Harry, fumbling as they shove their weapons into their pockets.Louis,on the other hand, is red faced, doubled over with laughter clutching his sides.

Harry looks at Louis, absolutely pleased with his prank. He decides that he absolutely adores Harry at this point. As Louis finally controls himself he says, “So that’s it then?  We’re going to do this?”

“It’s an hour till midnight, mate. _We_ have to do this.” Liam says, stressing the ‘we’.

Louis beams at Liam and Zayn. He loves his friends so much.

“Then let’s go.” Louis says, a look of determination in his eyes.

Harry finds Louis’ hand, lightly sliding their fingers together. Louis looks up at Harry and his brow is furrowed, his face lined with seriousness. He whispers, “We stick together?”

Louis has a sharp intake of breath before allowing the corners of his lips to curve upward. He just nods, squeezing Harry’s hand gently. Zayn and Liam have already brushed past them, out the door and armed with more weapons. Like it even mattered, Harry has always been the only person in the room to Louis at this point. 

And it’s at this moment, with their eyes locked on each other’s, does Louis realize that he’s in love with Harry, completely and totally invested in Harry.

He would do anything to save him.

 

  *****

They’re hiding behind a crate of the army’s gear. Louis cranes his neck, seeing swarms of soldiers moving in every direction, preparing to invade the city. He can’t see the Admiral in the sea of people. He’s going to have to plunge in and look for the admiral himself. Harry is about to follow Louis before he stops him.

“Wait, Harry!” Louis grabs on to Harry, pushing him back behind the crates. “I think…I think it’s best that you stay here. I don’t think the Admiral will be happy to see you, disguise or not.”

“He’s right, Harry.” Liam combats Harry’s protests.

“Watch him.” Louis says to Liam and Zayn, they nod solemnly. “I’ll be right back!”

He takes off in sprints, weaving his way through much bigger men. He feels a hand on his shoulder and sharp pull stops him in his tracks.

He turns to see Commander Joseph, staring down at him with her always present frown. “Commander….how are we today? Beautiful as always.”

“What are you doing here, Tomlinson?” She says with intimidation, striking immediate fear in Louis.

“Well you know,” Louis sings. “Just wanting to stop by and say a quick hello to an old friend of mine. Where _is_ the Admiral, exactly?”

“Tomlinson, you have a curfew.”

“I’m twenty years old, Commander, surely—“

“It goes for everybody in this base and you know it. Go back home.” The Commander sneers. Her face softens as she realizes the harshness of her tone. “Go home, Louis. It’s not safe for you to be out right now.”

“But Commander!” Louis cries. “I have vital information! I was there during the last raid—I survived! I-I know about the extermination, Commander.”

The Commander’s eyes widen. Shaking her head, she says. “That doesn’t matter anyway. We’ve scoured all the cameras we have placed in the city. Don’t worry, Tomlinson. The Admiral has his first target set on the university. Your horrible memories from that place will be destroyed.”

“But that’s not what this is about!” Louis says, frustration bubbling inside him. “Look I just need to see Admiral, please.”

“I can’t let you do that, Louis.”

“Why not?” The voice that says this surprises him. He bites down a scream when he turns to see Harry standing right next to him, _right in front of the Commander_.

“And this is…” Commander questions, her eyebrows raised in annoyance.

Louis pulls his hands away from covering his face. _Quick Louis, find your words._ “Well, this is my friend. Harold. Yes, this is Harold. Say hi, Harold.”

“Hiiii.”

“And why haven’t I seen him in training?” Commander asks, her arms crossed.

“He’s a pacifist.” Louis quickly says. “He likes his room too much. Uh, his mother worries about him. He gets scared easily. He’s afraid of the dark. He’s uh, not very social?”

The Commander stares them down before finally saying,“Go home, you two. I’m not saying anything else.”

Louis sighs in relief, turning Harry away. “Yes, ma’am! Good luck on your mission, ma’am!” Louis turns to Harry as they walk back to their hiding spot. “Harry! I told you to stay with Zayn and Liam! Weren’t they watching you?”

“They were busy.” _Oh, just they wait then._

When they make it back to their hiding spot, there’s Zayn and Liam, their faces oddly close together and— _oh._ They’re kissing. Zayn and Liam are kissing, this has never---Louis has never seen them do this before. Suddenly, all of Louis’ implications and innuendos come true and Louis wants to be happy for them, but now is really not the time.

 _“Hey! You guys were supposed to be watching, Harry!”_ Louis shouts.

The two lovebirds quickly jump away from eachother, Liam with a beet red face and Zayn with a dopey smile.

“I’m-we’re sorry mate, it was just the heat of the moment and—“ Liam splutters.

“We could die tonight, mate.” Zayn shrugs.

Louis rolls his eyes, guessing that now was as good a time as ever. “Fine, but Harry and I are going to have to find a way for me to sneak in. We can’t go inside their camp, Commander already knows we’re up to something. I may or may not have ran into her, so.”

_"Louis!”_

“Hey!” Louis squawks. “I am giving you two some alone time, accept it! Come on, Harry.”

After Louis and Harry examine the outer area, finding a path that leads to what they believed to be the Admiral’s tent, they walk back to Zayn and Liam, deciding that Harry needs to stay with them. Louis will not allow Harry to be left alone.

“I really hope that their lips aren’t attached together when we turn that corner.” Louis mutters to Harry, causing him to giggle.

When they do turn the corner, Harry gasps, smacking Louis’ chest. Pointing towards Zayn and Liam’s direction, he whines. _“Louis!”_

And there’s Zayn and Liam, not kissing. But Liam is holding a leash with Blondie---Niall, on the other end, smiling into the distance, as if this is completely normal.

“Liam!” Louis cries, running to Niall, freeing him from the chains of Liam. “This is Niall! Harry’s completely harmless friend.”

“Just taking precautions mate.” Liam shrugs. Louis scoffs and Louis thought they had earn Liam’s trust.

Harry runs into Niall’s embrace. “You’re here!”

“Had to find you.” Niall says. “You’re alright. Friend?”

He’s pointing at Louis, wiggling his eyebrows. Louis chuckles to himself. “Yes, I’m Louis. Nice to formally meet you.” He shakes Niall’s hand and Niall is completely overjoyed by this. It warms Louis’ heart.

“Where’s everybody?” Harry asks urgently, referring to their own army.

Niall motions off into the distance. “Fighting. Ran into Goners. I had to find you. Make sure you’re okay.”

“Louis.” Harry turns to him, gripping his shoulder. “We’ll go with Niall and fight. You find Admiral.”

Louis wants to protest. He wants the assurance of Harry’s safety---but they both needed to do their own jobs. He nods grimly. “Okay…just---be safe.”

Harry nods. Niall claps his hands, leading the others off.

“Wait!” Louis stops them. He quickly turns to the crates of gear they were just hiding behind. Finding what he was looking for, he tosses two crow bars at his dead (barely) friends. “Can’t go to battle unarmed.” Harry and Louis smile at each other as Niall raises the crowbar over his head, whooping in delight.

“And Zayn…Liam….” Louis coughs. He sticks his hand out, palm facing down. Zayn fondly rolls his eyes before stacking his on top of Louis’, Liam following. They take one big collective sigh, each wishing the other good luck before breaking apart. “See you later mates.”

They follow after Harry and Niall, weapons already out.

That leaves Louis with himself. Digging into the crate, he finds a helmet and places it on his head.

He is going to sneak into the Admiral’s tent and he is going to stop his extermination.

 

  *****

Which is actually difficult, mind you. He tumbles into the Admiral’s tent, after having to crawl his way through soldiers’ feet. Before being spotted, he squeezed himself into a barrel. Who knew the barrel had places to go? He rolled down an incline, falling out of the barrel and conveniently into the Admiral’s tent.

Louis looks up from his position on the ground, coughing up a mouthful of dirt, his limbs splayed in every direction. The Admiral stares down at him, folding his map into his pocket, hardly amused.

Louis scrambles to his feet. “Admiral.”

“Louis.” He murmurs. The Admiral looks different than he had last seen him, for obvious reasons. It pained Louis to see The Admiral like this after knowing him all his life. His eyes are rimmed with dark circles, eyes bloodshot with a lack of sleep. His skin lacks any color. Recent events obviously sucked the life out of him. Ironically, he looks like the Dead that Louis had encountered, he thinks. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you. It’s important and it has to do with the…” He says the last word, wearily, not liking the taste of it on his lips anymore. “…zombies.”

The Admiral ignores Louis. “You have orders, Louis. Strict orders. Leave my quarters and go home.

“B-but.” Louis stutters. “I have important information regarding tonight’s events. Please hear me out, Admiral, this could affect the lives of many. This could really mean something to somebody!”

The Admiral chuckles dryly, his eyes glowing with fire. “I honestly don’t think I’ll be able to relate, Louis. Seeing as I don’t have anybody. Not anymore.”

Louis shakes his head. “Th-that-that’s not true, Admiral!” His voice grows soft. “You have me. You’ve always had me.”

“ADMIRAL!” Commander Joseph comes barreling through his tent, their conversation obviously over with. “Goners! Hundreds of them! They’ve infiltrated the city. What do we do?”

The Admiral leaps from his chair, the flames in his eyes flickering. “Kill them.” He sneers, following Commander Joseph outside. “Kill them all!”

With this new Hell Bent Admiral’s exit, Louis is left with unshared information and a sinking feeling for his friends and Harry.

 

  **-H-**

They keep dropping from the ceiling! Jumping out of trashcans! Crashing in from windows! Everywhere Harry turns there’s another Goner ready for battle. Like Harry has made clear in the past, he hates killing. The only thing that allows him to let the crowbar in his hand crash into the skull of a Goner is the knowledge that these monsters were beyond saving. They chose this for themselves. And as far as Harry is concerned, none of them deserve to live. Not with that attitude!

They were fighting in an abandoned theatre, the same grand theatre that Stan had introduced to Louis, Zayn and Liam. The walls around them shake as they continue to fight, debris falling from the ceiling. There are other Dead, people like Harry, fighting alongside him. They’re equipped with abnormal weapons such as baseball bats, vacuums, and yes, frying pans. The world around him is so loud, filled with noises of battle. Goners and Zombies filter outside in little scuffles but _this._ This is where they’re entering from. This is the main war zone.

 A Goner throws himself at Harry from behind with brute force, wrapping his arms around his neck. Harry struggles a bit before elbowing the Goner, feeling its slimy decayed muscles under Harry’s blow. 

“AHA!” Harry cries, stabbing the Goner with his weapon. He turns, kicking the Goner to the floor. It doesn’t even beg for mercy. It accepts its death. Harry whacks its skull, leaving a loud sound that is barely heard over the other fighting noises.

“Good one.” He hears a Dead groan.

Another one flashes Harry a thumbs up and it’s all really cute if they weren’t fighting for their lives.

“Harry, behind you!” He hears Zayn cry.

Harry swings his crowbar at anything, eyes shut. He hears the resounding crack of a Goner’s skull. Harry opens his eyes to see a Goner wriggling on the floor, black blood spewing from its head. That’s another.

He meets Zayn’s eyes for a brief second, silently thanking him before moving further into the violent battle.

“10!” Of course he hears Niall’s voice over all the noise. “10th kill!”

Harry’s busy fighting off a Goner that has attached himself to his legs, snarling like a rabid dog. He frantically kicks him off.

“11!”

He stabs at its heart, watching it flail about as Harry twists his crow bar deeper into its chest.

“12!”

In the distance, Harry spots a Goner hovering over a Dead, baring its teeth at her.

Harry sprints over there, huffing at every step. He swings his weapon like a golf club, powerful and following through.

“13!”

He watches as its body flies through the air, landing in a crumpled mass. Harry helps the woman up, patting her cheek as she thanks him.

“14!” Niall roars with joy. _“I can count, Harry!”_

“That’s nice, Niall!” Harry cries, taking care of a line of Goners in the center of the lobby, swinging here, there, everywhere. Most of them die at the contact of Harry’s powerful jabs, but some manage to pull themselves up, ready for more.

“Harry, watch out!”

He searches for the voice. It’s Liam and he’s wildly pointing at something next to him. He turns to see three Goners, teamed up, ready to pounce Harry.

“Oh no…” Harry breathes out. He turns to Liam with a look of desperation. Liam waves at Harry to calm down. Liam pulls a fancy, definitely sharp looking dagger out of his pocket. He flicks it up, and it goes soaring onward and upward towards the ceiling---towards the chandelier.  

“Watch yourself, Harry!”

The chandelier comes sailing down with a whoosh and Harry jumps out of its way. It lands hard with a crash, right on top of Harry’s assailants.

Before Harry can say thank you, a Goner launches itself at Liam, gripping its hands around his neck. Harry immediately jumps over the wreckage, sprinting towards Liam. Leaping onto the Goner, Harry raises his weapon, crashing into its skull.

“DON’T!” Whack. “HURT!” Whack. “MY!” Whack. “FRIENDS!”

“It’s dead, Harry!” Liam says, rubbing at his neck. Harry untangles himself from the Goner, kicking at its limp body for extra measure.

Zayn comes limping towards him, with ripped jeans and a bloody gash peeking under them. “You okay, Li?”

“’m fine. What about you?” Liam replies, grabbing onto Zayn, inspecting him up and down.

“Depends.” Zayn groans, the pain getting to him. “Are we together or not?”

“Maybe…” Liam smiles. “Probably.”

Harry waves his arms at them. _Helllooo, there are still Goners charging in by the numbers._ “Fighting! We are fighting!” This is no time for love!

Speaking of love, a tiny body crashes into Harry, its arms wrap around his waist. It’s definitely not a Goner. This body is too warm to be a Goner.

“Harry! You’re alive!” Louis says, pulling apart from him. “With scratches all over you, tsk, and we worked so hard.”

Harry’s stomach ties up in knots. A whine is buried within his throat. His world stops for moment. Louis shouldn’t be here. It’s too dangerous. He can’t let Louis risk his life—he’s so small and---

_BANG._

Harry’s eyes widen as a body slumps onto him, its weight almost brings Harry down. Harry shakes the Goner off of him, looking up to see Louis with a pistol aimed straight where the Goner probably once stood, smoke floating from its barrel. Louis’ eyes meet Harry’s astonished expression.

“For fuck’s sake Harry, look alive!”

_Oh, the irony._

“Look.” Louis says, pointing towards the entrance. There’s a fleet of uniformed soldiers, lined up, their weapons up and ready. “The army has arrived and they’ve brought in the big guns. And...I should mention that I did not get the chance to tell them that your people would be here….and on our side.”

Liam claps a hand over his mouth, moaning. “They'll think I’m a traitor!”

“Hm, good to know your priorities are in check.” Louis sniffs.

They resign themselves to the back corner, watching as Commander Joseph watches the battle happening before her. She raises her hand towards her men, ordering them to hold their fire. She steps forward, observing the Dead swinging their weapons at the Goners while the Goners fight back with just as much force. Suddenly, a flash of blonde hair flies backwards, straight into Commander Joseph, knocking her down. Niall turns to the Commander, looking at her apologetically. Niall reaches his hands out as if to check if the Commander is okay, but the Commander doesn’t take it that way. She raises her gun with wide eyes, aiming for Niall’s skull.

“NIALL!” Harry bellows from across the room.

The army behind the Commander stand ready, weapons up.

Then the Commanders eyes bulge and Niall follows her trail. A Goner comes snaking up to them, its sharp teeth out for them all to see, growling as he grows near.

“NO!” Niall yells, swinging his crowbar, a resounding crack causes the Commander to lower her gun. Niall chuckles as the Goner squirms on the ground, clutching its skull. Niall turns back to the Commander, grinning sheepishly. The Commander responds with furrowed eyebrows, gears turning in her head.

“Wait!” She calls out to line of men. “…They’re with us.”

She grabs a pistol out of her belt and throws it to Niall. Niall catches it eagerly, turning back to the battle. He raises his new weapon over his head.

“NOBODY MESSES WITH MY MOTHERFUCKING CLIQUE!”  

Harry cheers at Niall’s new battle cry.

“Uh…Harry?”

Harry instinctively cranes his neck towards the familiar voice.

 _Shit._ There’s Louis, waving at a group of Goners leaning towards him, snarling and gnashing their sharp teeth at his direction.

“I think they know me.” Louis says weakly.

Harry sprints, pulling Louis’ hand with a yelp. Louis regains his balance, running alongside Harry, their hands still joined together. 

“What? You’re not going to sweep me off my feet this time?” Louis pants, taking little steps as they run down the aisle. Goners follow them, jumping agilely from chair to chair.

They’re backstage now, weaving through old set pieces and beauty stations.

“I always loved the theatre!” Louis shrieks as he elbows a too close for comfort Goner in the face.

Harry pulls them forward, throwing open a door to the outside. They sprint along the pavement, windows opening as their noises becomes louder. Strangers watch from above them, yelling and pointing at the chase scene below them.

“Oh look, it’s Mrs.Patsy! Hello Mrs.Patsy!” Louis screams, waving his gun at a window. “Nothing to see here!”

Harry grunts, tugging at Louis, too preoccupied to enjoy his commentary. Louis throws gunshots over his shoulder, cheering as he hits one and cursing at every miss. Harry’s throat becomes dry, his legs become heavy. Louis senses this and now he’s pulling Harry with a look of determination.

“Come on, Harry. We gotta keep going.”

The number of Goners chasing them begin to dwindle, but a good amount still follow them with hungry eyes. The moon lights their way as they scurry through the streets. Harry directs them to an alley way, stopping at what seems to be the tallest building in the base.

“Yes, Harry!” Louis cheers. “Kill ‘em with heights. Start climbing.”

They climb the ladder as quickly as they can, their grip slipping every now and then. Harry pushes on with trembling fingers, not liking the heights himself.

"You can do it, Hazza!” Louis urges from above him. “Keep going!”

Below him, Goners bite at his ankles. They’re slower though, their limbs weakening and skinless body betraying them. He kicks a couple off, smirking in victory.

"Holy shit! That’s the way to do it!” Louis cries. “Hold on, Harry!”

He rattles the ladder, swinging them as Harry grips accordingly. A couple of Goners fly off, falling onto the hard pavement. They finally reach the roof of the building, Louis pulling him up.

“You good?” Louis says, gasping for air.

Harry nods weakly, pushing them to the middle. A Goner appears by the ladder and Louis shoots him. The goner falls, clutching its wound.

“That’s another.” Louis says.

If Harry’s counting is correct, the last Goner appears at the ladder. Louis sighs, completely fed up with these monsters.

“Harry,” Louis chimes, turning to Harry. “I think I’m going to jazz square forward, chaste at a diagonal angle, leap to the center and then nail this fucking Goner right in the head, sending it to its death. What do you think?”

Harry nods with a knowing smirk.

“Excellent.”

Louis does everything he listed and better, making sure to be as dramatic as possible. He round kicks the Goner right in the skull, sending him backwards.

Louis looks over the landing. “Yep, they’re dead. They’re all dead.” 

Then Louis turns to him and a full grin breaks out on Harry’s face, bursting with an endearment for the blue eyed boy. Louis returns the smile, jumping up and down. This is their moment, Harry thinks. They could be together. Louis runs to him and Harry welcomes him with open arms, sweeping him off the ground, spinning in circles.

“Jesus, Harry!” Louis squeals, his fist clenched into Harry’s shirt, smiling into the crook of his neck.

“That was awesome!” Harry says dizzily, setting Louis down.

“Really?” Louis chuckles, looking up at Harry. “You think? Perfect form and everything?”

“Fucking…awesome.” Harry says, letting the words roll off his tongue.

“Good.” Louis murmurs, his eyes transfixed on Harry’s, scanning Harry’s face. They’re still holding tightly to one another and Harry never wants to let go.

Louis reaches his hand out, gently settling it on Harry’s cheek. Harry nuzzles into his touch. “You know, despite all that fighting wearing off your makeover…you still look human to me.”

Harry is so warm against Louis.

“I am human.” Harry says. “Always have been.”

“Maybe.” Louis says softly before nodding earnestly. “You are, definitely.”

He leans into Louis more, turning his head inward. His lips lightly press a kiss to Louis’ palm.

“Harry…” Louis whispers, his blue eyes look straight into Harry’s and he swears, they ignite something in Harry.

Harry tilts his head towards Louis’ lips. Unspoken words hang between them, filling him up with warm serenity. Harry doesn’t need to say anything. There’s no need confess his undying love for Louis. Because for Harry, actions speak louder than words.

A gunshot pulls them apart. Their hands still intertwined, they turn to see a tall man with salt and pepper hair. Staring at them venomously, his gun raised over his head. A handful of soldiers stand behind him, including Commander Joseph.

 _“Admiral Lucas.”_ Louis says with a frown, sliding himself in front of Harry, arms outstretched.  

“Louis!” The Admiral shouts, his gun pointed to Harry. “Step away from the zombie!”

“No.” Louis glares. “I’m not moving and you’re not doing anything to him.”

“Louis…” Harry whispers. Louis nudges him silent.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, Louis.” The Admiral warns.

“Yes, I do!” Louis fires back. “And so would you if you would've just listened to me!”

“Please!” The Admiral chuckles. “Please don’t tell me you have feelings for a zombie.”

Zayn, Liam and Niall appear at the stairwell with worried eyes, their whole bodies splattered with blood and scars. They’re immediately held back by soldiers, squirming in their grip.

“He’s not a zombie!” Louis snaps. “He’s human, like you and me. This world’s stupid, vile fighting killed him!” Louis shakes his head. “But it only hindered him. Because he woke up! All of them woke up! The way you and I wake up every morning, for the same exact reason. _Because they believed that there was something worth waking up for!_ And yes, the sickness left them wired to think differently, simple thinking. They may have ate whatever moved, because that was survival in the simplest way. But I promise you, they’re changing. _He’s changing!_ The people fighting down there, with us, are changing! The gears in their brain are slotting together and they’re remembering what’s right and what’s wrong.” Louis looks at Harry with a shaky smile and the lump in Harry’s throat grows two sizes bigger. “Harry even ate fruit with me. I was with him for a week and he didn't even have the urge to kill me. I watched him discover the world again and believe me, he’s back. They’re all turning alive again, Admiral. We just have to be the ones to help them---to influence them. Shutting them out won’t solve anything. And killing them all will definitely not save them.”

The Admiral moves forward, gun still at the ready. “You’re crazy, Louis.” His voice shakes with anger, his eyes burning holes into Louis. “You expect me to believe that all those little zombies were fighting to save you? To save us?” Niall cries in protest. “Bullshit! There’s no need to save them, Louis! They’re just sheep, blindly following all of us! Enjoying the blood and the teeth tearing! That is what they live for! Listen, Louis. They’re not humans. We’re food to them! They do not feel.They’re disgusting creatures, just like those Goners! They give nothing to society!”

“They are people, Admiral! We have to give them a chance to give back to the world!”

“ _NO_ , Louis. They are worth nothing. They are a threat. This is my city and I say they must be killed. Every single bloody one of them must be killed.” He spits, squinting his eyes at Harry, straightening his stance.

“NO!” Louis screams

 _"Traitor!_ You’re a fucking Traitor, Louis Tomlinson! To your friend and your people!” The Admiral bellows. He shifts his aim towards Louis. “You know what they say, a traitor must die a traitor’s death.”

Yells can be heard from Zayn, Liam and Niall. But Harry’s cry is the loudest. He doesn’t even have to think. He pushes Louis to the ground, taking his spot. The noise of a bullet splits the air, plunging straight into Harry’s shoulder and then another through his leg. His whole mind becomes cloudy as he gasps in searing pain. He feels a body catch him as he begins to fall. It’s Louis that he’s slumped over. He clings onto him, hissing into his ear. His breathing becomes uneven as he tries to stay attached to this world, to Louis.

“You fucking monster!” Louis cries, his body shaking. His hands roam Harry’s body. “Red…Blood. Blood! Harry, oh my god. You’re bleeding. You’re alive. Harry, you’re alive.”

Harry whimpers into Louis’ neck. “Stay with me, Harry.” He’s going to bleed to fucking death. Alive and dead again, how wonderful.

“How could you fucking do that?!” Louis sobs. “How could you turn your gun at me, Mr.Lucas!? You can’t fucking be the same guy that I grew up. I don’t believe it--don’t fucking look at me like that--you and I both know that you haven’t been a father to Stan in the last four years! So don’t you dare call me the bloody traitor, when it’s me that’s been there for him all this time. Don’t you dare call me the traitor! You are the one who’s dead, Admiral! Not them!”

The Admiral is shaking his head, still waving his gun around. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Please!” Louis hiccups, tears staining his golden skin. “He-He sacrificed himself for me! Doesn’t that fucking say anything! And-And he’s bleeding red, just like us! He wants to be alive! Don’t you fucking see? He is alive! Why can’t that convince you enough?”

“You’re wrong, Louis!” The Admiral yells as Louis continues to whisper to Harry, urging him to hold on.

Louis’ lips tremble against his ear. “Please hold on. You can’t die on me, Harry. You’ve saved my life too many times for you to just die. Please hold on for me.”

And he’s trying to. He’s really really trying to, it just hurts so bad.

“I’m going to kill him, Louis!” The Admiral screams, his veins popping out. Fury and revenge light up his eyes. _“He killed my son and now I’m going to kill him.”_

That doesn’t stop Louis from holding on to Harry and Harry wants to tell him to let go, to save himself. But Louis’ sobbing into Harry, whispering ‘no’ and ‘please’ over and over.

“This one is for the brains.”

The gunshot cracks through the air, a symphony of cries echo muddily through Harry’s mind and Harry feels himself slipping.

The next thing he knows he’s being straightened by Louis. Louis who is shaking with fear, murmuring _‘it’s going to be, okay’_ and _‘you’re alright’_. Harry wills himself to lift his head to look around the area. Zayn and Liam are hugging eachother, while Niall stands beside them, a hand over his mouth, beaming at Harry with watery eyes. Then there’s Commander Joseph. Her gun is out, pointing down to the crumpled mess on the floor--- the body of the Admiral, soaking in a puddle of blood.

“I won’t stand for this corruption, anymore.” The Commander sighs. “It’s time we usher in a new era.”

She escorts _her_ troops out after quietly nodding to Louis. “We’ll get him help.”

Zayn, Niall, and Liam crowd around Harry, giving Louis and Harry enough space.

Harry looks down at Louis, weakly. The image of his face comes into focus, radiant and inviting, just like it’s always been.

“I’ve been shot.” Harry mumbles, his tongue heavy.

“Yeah.” Louis breathes out. “You scared me-thought I lost you...but you’re going to be okay.”

Harry nods. The brightness of Louis’ eyes is the only thing keeping him awake.

“You’re alive, Harry.” Louis says, the crinkles by his eyes dance for Harry. He lifts Harry’s hand gently and places it on Harry's heart. “See, it beats.” And Harry feels the thumping rhythm. Then Louis moves Harry’s hand to his own heart, “Just like mine.”

As he feels Louis' heart beat for only Harry, he begins to believe that he is so very awake. More awake than ever.

“I am alive.” Harry exclaims. “I am alive!”

“God, Harry. Your eyes are so green. They’re so so green now.” Louis laughs, his stare unwavering. “I always believed in you.”

Harry dips his head, resting on Louis’ forehead. He feels Louis’ warm breath on his lips. “I love you, Lou.” Soft. For Louis only. These are words that he’s always known, unable to say.

“I love you too.” Louis murmurs. “Now, show me.”

And to the whistles and claps of his friends behind him, Harry surges forward, collapsing into Louis. Their lips fit together in perfect harmony, like it was always meant to be. He clings onto Louis tighter, as if letting go would be the death of him. Louis smiles into the kiss, whispering into Harry’s lips about how his hair tickles. And Harry laughs before finding Louis’ lips again, learning everything about him. They’re together. Kissing and together.

And for the first time, Harry sees the light. And god, does it feel good.

**Author's Note:**

> The support has been amazing. Feel free to comment!
> 
> tommothetrain.tumblr.com


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